Trouble Ahead
by LyricalKris
Summary: While not without its ups and downs, life for Carlisle and Edward Cullen was good. They are a happy, loving family. But in life there will always be trouble ahead. Sequel to Trouble Follows.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: How did we get here? I'm not a fan of series in general but I guess I'm just not done with these boys.**

 **Dudes. Dig the banner Mina made. And if you have a chance, pop into my Facebook group. She made it a gif, and I cannot.**

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"Carlisle?"

"Hmm?" Carlisle flipped through to the next page in the journal he was reading. One of his residents had an interesting case, and he was close to figuring it out. He could feel it. If only—

"Daddy."

Carlisle sucked in a breath and raised his head. His husband was in front of him, on his knees, with his arms clasped behind his back. Waiting. "Oh."

Even after all these years together, the devastating challenges they'd face, the sight of Edward on his knees, giving himself over to him so fully and completely, would never not be profound to Carlisle. The roles of sub and Dom were precious, different than what they were as partners, parents, husbands.

Carlisle stood up slowly, his eyes on Edward's. He cupped Edward's cheek. "What are you doing there, baby boy?"

The corner of Edward's mouth turned up. He turned his head to press a kiss to Carlisle's palm. "It's Daddy's Day. Well. Almost. I was wondering how I could serve you, Daddy."

His eyes darted to Carlisle's crotch, and he licked his lips before he raised his gaze back up. Carlisle shivered, stiffening at the implication. It was a tempting offer. How he loved to be enveloped in his boy's slick, hot mouth.

"Hmm." Carlisle let his fingers thread through Edward's silky hair. "What to do with my beautiful brat." He drew his finger along Edward's bottom lip, his lust building as Edward's tongue darted out to lick the tip. His voice went husky with need. "The possibilities are endless."

He kept them both waiting. He did so love to watch Edward squirm. Patience was never going to be one of his strong suits, especially when it came to this, to them and this beautiful thing they were together.

"Stand up," Carlisle said. "And turn to face the bed."

When Edward obeyed, Carlisle went to stand in front of him. He tugged up on Edward's shirt, and his brat allowed him to pull it off. He leaned in, kissing Edward, teasing his tongue at his lips, as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down. Edward sighed into his mouth and raised his hands to Carlisle's sides.

Instantly, Carlisle broke their kiss and took Edward's wrists in a hard grip. Edward gasped, his eyes gone dark as their gazes locked. Carlisle clucked his tongue. "Did I say you could touch me, pet?"

Edward licked his lips. "No, sir."

"Put your hands on your head. Maybe you'll remember to keep them to yourself next time."

"Yes, sir." Edward put his hands on top of his head, watching intently.

After he let him stew for another few moments under his gaze, Carlisle leaned in again. He kissed his boy gently, knowing full well the other man would have preferred hot and heavy. They were busy fathers and busy doctors; finding time to be together like this could be tricky. As a result, they were more often so needy for each other, slow just wasn't going to happen.

Tonight, though, Carlisle was determined. He kissed Edward almost chastely, all the while running his fingertips up and down Edward's front. This, too, was a tease as he never got quite low enough to touch his husband where he most wanted to be touched. He was careful to let no part of him brush Edward's straining erection.

As for his own erection, well, he was studiously ignoring it for now.

Keeping his lips on Edward's, he guided him one step forward, helping him step out of the puddle of his pants. He deepened the kiss only a little, stroking his tongue along Edward's until he elicited a soft whimper from the other man. He stroked his fingers along Edward's sides and then up and down his spine.

When Edward leaned forward, chasing a deeper kiss, Carlisle pulled back, taking a step away. Edward whined—a tiny sound in the back of his throat—his lips parted as he stared longingly at Carlisle.

Carlisle cocked his head. "You have something to say, pet?"

Edward quite obviously did have something to say, but he pressed his lips together and shook his head. Carlisle chuckled, pressing both his thumbs over Edward's nipples and rubbing them in circles as a reward. "Such a good boy you are."

He gifted his boy with a peck to each of his nipples, flicking them with his tongue as he did. Edward sucked in a breath and Carlisle pulled away again. "Rest your arms and face forward," he said, giving Edward's ass a hearty but playful smack as he moved to the chest they kept tucked in a corner of the closet.

When he came back, he stepped up behind Edward, ghosting a kiss along the line of his neck to his shoulders. Edward shivered but managed to stay still as Carlisle drew his hands behind his back and bound them at the wrist. "Okay?" he murmured, checking as he always did to make sure the ties were comfy.

"Just ducky," his brat said. The words came out kind of breathless.

"Good." Carlisle came around to his front and kissed Edward. Another long, languid kiss as he curled his fingers in the coarse hair nestled above his husband's straining cock.

A full minute passed before Carlisle stepped back, crooking a hand at his chin as he let his eyes sweep up and down Edward's body. He stepped to the side and then, crossing one foot in front of the other as he made his way around. He had to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from grinning. Edward was trying his best to be still, but he was twitching—little movements of his fingers, a shift in his stance.

On the second pass, Edward's head moved the slightest bit, trying to follow Carlisle's movement. "Ah." Carlisle came to stand behind Edward and caught his head between his hand, forcing him to face forward. "Did I tell you to turn around?"

"No, sir."

"No." Carlisle drew his fingertips down the side of Edward's cheek and then his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to his neck. "That's alright, pet. I'm here to help." He drew a silk blindfold out of his pocket, trailing the edge of the fabric along Edward's spine. Edward sucked in a sharp breath, but he kept his face forward. He was impressively still as Carlisle tied the blindfold over his eyes.

"Careful now, pet," Carlisle murmured, taking Edward by the arm to lead him to the bed.

They moved seamlessly together, Edward trusting Carlisle so completely that he moved without hesitation at his gentle direction. Carlisle arranged them so he was propped up against the headboard and Edward was settled between his spread legs, his back to Carlisle's chest.

Carlisle hummed in satisfaction, happy to have his little boy brat so open and accessible to him. He looked down Edward's body—the body he'd worshipped so many ways over the last near-decade they'd been together—and tried to decide how he wanted to touch his husband first.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he said, his lips to Edward's ear. He took the lobe in his mouth, biting down just a little.

He traced circles along Edward's skin, only skimming his erogenous zones with the barest of touches. His proud, straining cock got no attention save for the light breeze Carlisle's palm made when he moved it down to Edward's thigh and snapped it back up to his belly.

"Daddy," Edward said, breathless.

"Yes, little one?"

"I wanted… Oh." Edward tilted his head to the side as Carlisle sucked gently at his neck."I, uh… I wanted to serve you. To, ah… to please _you."_

Carlisle laughed. He thrust his hips, trapping his own erection against the cleft of Edward's ass. "Do you think I'm not pleased with this? With you? Look at you." He drew his fingers down Edward's sides, across his belly. Edward's fingers, behind his back, flexed, tickling the tip of Carlisle's erection as he began to squirm under his touch. "You see how your body works for me?

"Believe me, little boy." Carlisle cupped a hand, trapping Edward's cock against his belly without stimulating or stroking him at all. "It serves my purpose well to have you like this." He put his lips to Edward's ear again, his voice gone low and dangerous. "I could do anything to you like this, can't I?"

Quick as a flash, Carlisle reached up, taking both of Edward's nipples between his fingers and twisting hard. Edward cried out, a deliberately soft sound though his head was thrown back, his mouth open wide, and his back arched up.

They had gotten very good at being very quiet over the last three years.

Carlisle tweaked his nipples again. "I asked you a question, little boy. I said, I can do anything to you, can't I?"

"Yes," Edward panted. "Yes, Daddy, please."

Nipping again at his neck, Carlisle skimmed his fingers down Edward's body. This time, he began to explore Edward's cock, his touch teasing even as his teeth scraped. He listened, hearing each gasp Edward made, each moan. He played his husband like a harp until he keened a gorgeous song, begging for him, needing him.

Only then did Carlisle guide Edward forward, his movement rough but his grip sure. He pushed Edward so his head was on the bed, and he was on his knees, his ass in the air and his legs spread wide. He murmured filthy things, telling Edward he was beautiful and his and such a good little boy as he took Edward's cock in his hand and stroked, stroked, stroked.

Then, when he knew Edward was close, he backed off, releasing his cock though his little brat whined. His hands, still bound behind his back clenched and released. His whole body was flush.

He entered his husband first with lube-slicked fingers, pumping him slow again, driving him crazy, watching as Edward thrust back on him in need.

When he was sure they would both go out of their minds if he didn't act, Carlisle thrust his cock into his husband, burying himself to the hilt. They both cried out—a little too loud—and froze.

Nearly a decade, and Carlisle didn't think he'd ever have enough of this man. He'd driven them both to a frenzy, and fucked him like he'd wanted all night. Now wasn't the time for slow and teasing. When Edward lost control of his volume, Carlisle clapped a hand over his mouth. Only when he felt Edward's body begin to jolt with a powerful orgasm did Carlisle give in to his own. He came with a low, guttural moan, his hand gripping Edward's hip hard enough to leave a red mark.

Some minutes later, when they could both breathe again and Carlisle had undone Edward's binds, they lay facing each other. They kissed languorously, tangled up in each other's arms.

When they pulled back, a tenderness Carlisle never had gotten used to washed over him. His husband was so incredibly precious to him. Edward smiled, a small, soft thing; his green eyes peaceful and happy. With his face flushed and his hair mussed, he looked like the bright-eyed, mischievous misfit he'd been when they first met.

"Happy Daddy's Day," Edward whispered, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

Carlisle cupped the back of his head and brought him forward for a kiss. "I love you, baby boy."

 **~Edward~**

"Edward."

Edward groaned in response to his husband's gentle, sing-song voice. Carlisle was trying to charm him awake, and it wasn't going to work. It was his own fault too. He'd worn Edward out good and proper the night before.

"Edward, wake up."

That just wasn't going to happen. He was off work today; he was sure of that. And he'd been having a very delicious dream. One he was going to whisper in Carlisle's ear when he was ready to get up, which was not now.

"Daddy."

Edward's eyes flew open as a chorus rang out.

"Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Wake. Up. Wake. Up." Accompanied by pat, pat, pats all over his body.

He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, smiling as three tiny children swarmed him, their little hands and feet assailing his body at random. They all tumbled over, peppering his face with wet kisses.

Izzi sat up on his chest and threw her arms out wide. "Happy Daddy Day!"

Carlisle came and sat on the side of the bed, peeling a couple of kids off him so he could lean in for a sweet kiss of his own. The look in his eyes was so bright and happy, matching the love and warmth Edward felt welling in him, threatening to make his heart explode in his chest. "Happy Father's Day," Carlisle murmured.

"Happy Father's Day."

Ethan and Izzi escaped Carlisle's hold and climbed over Edward—who winced as he caught a chubby elbow to the gut and foot to his inner thigh—babbling excitedly the whole while.

"Daddy, we made breakfast," Izzi said.

"Eggs and bacon and waffles," Ethan said. They both sat facing Edward on the side of the bed Carlisle usually occupied.

"You made all that all by yourself?" Edward asked, raising an arm so Lucas could curl up against him.

"Well, Daddy cooked." Ethan looked to Carlisle.

"We can't use the fire," Lucas said solemnly.

"But we patted the bacon to dry it." Izzi said. "And I picked the very best strawberries."

"It looks delicious and very special," Edward said.

There was more jostling as they all found a space to sit. Edward and Carlisle sat up at the head of the bed with Lucas tucked between them and Ethan and Izzi facing them. Edward didn't even care that they'd have to wash all the blankets when they were done—there was no such thing as eating neatly with three almost-three-year-olds.

Syrup stains were worth spending this time with his beautiful family.

As he listened to Ethan sternly informing him that he absolutely had to cook dinner because Carlisle was a daddy too, Edward's mind wandered briefly to his own father. His heart gave a guilty squeeze that he pushed away as firmly as he could.

His father had made his own bed, played more than his part in their current lack of relationship. He'd preferred to think that Edward was making the wrong choices rather than trying to understand they were different people who wanted very different things. Edward Masen Sr. wasn't a father Edward ever wanted to celebrate again.

Anyway, even before their estrangement, in his adult life, Edward's duty on Father's Day had been to make a phone call. They'd have chatted politely, Edward would wish him a good day, and that was that.

Watching his beloved children, Edward couldn't imagine a day would come when he'd be anything less than fascinated by them. Even now, he was so curious, wondering who they would be when they grew up. He wanted to be the kind of father his adult children would want to celebrate with.

"Are you all right?" Carlisle asked, speaking quietly near his ear. "You look a little spaced out."

Edward looked down as Lucas stretched a hand up, offering him a bite of strawberry from his sticky fingers. Edward obliged, taking a bite of the tip, and raised his head to look at his husband. "I'm so beyond all right, my love."

Carlisle smiled at the endearment and leaned forward to kiss him over their son's head.

Sometime later, when they had all rolled out of bed and everyone was finally dressed and ready, Carlisle's phone rang. He stepped into the hallway, leaving Edward to the task of triple checking that all three of the kids had everything they needed for their outing.

Edward joined in with the kids fifth rendition of their current favorite song, singing along until he heard the sharp, strained tenor of Carlisle's voice from a short distance away. Instantly, he was on alert. He turned and peered, catching sight of Carlisle's profile. His expression was calm, but that was actually a bad sign. Carlisle's response to extreme emotion was often a carefully blank expression. His shoulders were hunched. He pressed the fingertips of his free hand against his temple.

"Hey, kiddos." Edward caught his childrens' attention as quickly as he could, sending up a quick prayer that they would all listen just this once. "Can you guys go to the living room and play a second? I need to talk to Daddy."

Izzi scrunched up her face. "We have to go."

"Just for a minute. You can play on the iPad."

Those were the magic words. They had gotten the toy taken away from them for the weekend. It wasn't the best parenting move, but Edward needed to be by Carlisle's side more than he needed to be the consistent parent at the moment.

The kids didn't need to be told twice. They knew where it was kept and hurried to be the first ones to get a hold of it.

Seeing that they were fine, Edward hurried to Carlisle's side.

"Yes. Yes, I'm still here," Carlisle said. He sounded odd. Not strained or struggling, just off somehow Edward couldn't put his finger on.

Edward wrapped an arm around Carlisle's waist and his husband started. He looked down and wordlessly returned Edward's embrace, squeezing hard.

"I understand," Carlisle said into the phone. "I need…" He took a deep breath. "I need to call you back. Give me an hour, and I'll call you back."

He didn't wait for the answer, instead bringing the phone down away from his ear. He stared straight ahead, his eyes sightless.

"Carlisle?" Edward stroked his cheek, tamping down his panic and speaking around the lump in his throat. "What is it? What's happened?"

"It's my dad," Carlisle said, his voice soft.

Edward blinked. "What?"

"My dad. He's in the hospital." He took a deep breath. "I think he needs me."

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 ** **A/N: Sooooooo.****

 **Here we go again!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Betsy is my favorite. When she got the chapter update from me, she said, "** **Not done torturing them huh?"**

 **I love them. My love, apparently, is painful.**

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Carlisle often wondered how different his life would have been if his mother had lived. That he would have been an entirely different person went without question, but who would he have been?

It was a conundrum because, for the most part, Carlisle liked who he was. He was a good doctor, friend, and nice person all around. To his reckoning, a man who was Edward's husband and Lucas, Ethan, and Izzi's father was a man worth knowing. Would he have liked the man he'd have become had he grown up the way he should have?

As Edward sang their babies to sleep, Carlisle slipped away, retreating to the solitude of his office. He hesitated only a moment before he opened one of the built-in cabinets and took an album from its place behind a stack of books.

The very first picture was nearly fifty years old now. It wasn't nearly as crisp and vibrant as the pictures he could take with his phone these days. Still, the image was clear. It was a picture of three people. The first was a gorgeous woman with honey-blond hair that fell in soft wisps, framing her face. She was smiling, beaming, and holding on to the arm of the man at her side.

In Carlisle's memory, James Monroe Cullen had never been much of a smiler. Even in his younger years, before his mother's death, Carlisle only remembered his father's small smiles of amusement. But in this photo, his grin could only be described as goofy. He was staring down at the tiny baby in his arms with wonder and a giddy joy written all over his features.

His father had loved him once. The baby in this picture and the little boy in the pictures that followed it had been adored and cherished.

Who would he have been if he hadn't killed his mother and made his father hate him?

Carlisle had no idea how long he'd been sitting there when Edward came to kneel in front of him. His eyes ached as he looked down at his husband, and Edward looked up at him with such love and concern. Edward put his hands over his on the album and squeezed.

"Tell me what you need," Edward said softly. His eyes were full of such sympathy and concern. "Whatever you need, I can make it happen. If you need all of us to go with you. If you need just me, we can—"

"I need to go alone," Carlisle said, closing his eyes because he couldn't bear to see the look on Edward's face. They were hard words to say.

"Okay," Edward said after a beat.

Carlisle opened his eyes and grasped Edward's hand. "I have to go alone. I'm not going to put you in a position to be hurt by him."

Edward was already shaking his head. "This isn't about you protecting me. Some things are about you. This is about you, and I want to be there for you however I can."

"Then, I need you here at home." Carlisle swallowed hard. He slid his hands along Edward's arms, bracing him and bringing him to his feet. He pulled Edward onto his lap, wrapping him up and holding him close. "You and my kids are my priority. I'll do my duty as a son, but that's all it is. He has no one else, and it's the right thing. He can't hurt me anymore," he told himself as much as he told Edward. "He's an old, sick man, but I need you far away from him until I know for sure he won't hurt you. That's what will help me most."

Edward cupped his face and nuzzled the tip of his nose, whispering his name. "You never think you deserve to have someone there for you, and that's his fault. All the things he said to you, the things he did." There was rage in Edward's voice, and he swallowed hard near Carlisle's ear, still stroking his cheeks. "I hate him, and I don't want you near him. I don't care if he is a decrepit old man. I want to be there with you. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

"You don't understand." Carlisle tilted his forehead against his husband's, flighting the lump that burned in his throat. "You can't be there because he will be weak, and he will be frail and old." Carlisle gritted his teeth. "But I swear to fucking God, if I have to hear him say one vile thing to you, I will pull the god damned plug."

The words were vicious and awful and nothing but the truth. Carlisle hid his face against Edward's hair, ashamed but also furious. He was angrier than he knew how to process. It was an utterly absurd rage. His father hadn't said a single word to him, let alone his husband, but the idea of what he could say…

Edward cupped his face again and raised his head. Carlisle sighed and opened his eyes, looking back while Edward searched him. He didn't blame his husband for that look of shock. Carlisle just didn't _do_ angry.

"Do you understand?" he said quietly. "It's not that I don't want you there, but I need to know how it's going to be with him. I need to know if I can keep my calm and do the right thing."

Edward pressed a shaky kiss to his temple. "You'll take care of him. That's why I didn't even ask if you were going to go. Most of me wishes you wouldn't, but that's not you. You'll take care of him even if he's still awful. It's just who you are." He gave him a smile and kissed him sweetly. "You never give yourself enough credit."

Carlisle sighed, cradling his beautiful boy, this stunning, giving man, close to him. "This time, Edward, with him, I think you give me too much credit."

 _ **~0~**_

"Can I admit something horrible to you?" Carlisle asked two minutes into the drive to the airport.

In the driver's seat, Esme chanced a quick glance at him. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

"I do know that." Carlisle sighed. "It really is awful."

"Spill."

Even then, Carlisle hesitated. "When I got the call and I heard he was so sick, I was so pissed off." He closed his eyes, dizzy with the same furious emotion. "He didn't have the decency to just die. Something quick so the only thing I had to do was bury him."

The silence in the car at that was deafening. Carlisle hung his head. "That's a psychotic thing to say, isn't it?"

"No," Esme said quickly. She reached across and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I've known for a long time that he hurt you, Carlisle. And I couldn't imagine what kind of an asshole could blame a tiny child for his mother's death. But I've never _seen_ just how much he hurt you."

Carlisle closed his eyes and thumped his head against the back seat. "This is ridiculous. And childish. I'm nearly fifty years old. I figured out half my lifetime ago that everything he said and did to me was nothing more than the ravings of a pathetic man having a tantrum because life didn't go the way he wanted it to." He growled in frustration and put his head in his hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. You've always got your emotions under such tight control. They just got away from you for a minute; that's all."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it," Carlisle groused, resisting the urge to slouch in his seat.

Esme was silent for a few beats before she ventured a tentative, "Are you sure you should go alone? I'm sure Edward would go with you in a heartbeat. In fact—"

"I don't want him to see me like this," Carlisle admitted, the words tumbling out so fast they almost ran together. He made an effort to calm down.

"You haven't told him any of this, have you?" Esme's tone wasn't judgmental, but Carlisle heard the disapproval anyway.

"It's not that I don't trust him. He'd be my rock. He's always been there when I needed him. But whatever this is, whatever's going on with me…" He shrugged, unable to find the right words. "We haven't spoken to his parents in three years, but this is different. My dad and I? It's not the same thing."

"And you thought I'd understand it better than he would?"

"Well. I guess I'd hoped you had some advice. How am I supposed to deal with this…" He waved his hands helplessly, still at a loss for words.

To his surprise, Esme laughed. "Carlisle, you know damn well how I deal with all that."

He frowned, because of course he knew. He'd been the source of her catharsis for years.

"I can also guess that what you told me years ago is still true," she said sadly. "You still don't know how to believe you deserve to be cared for the way you care for Edward, and the way you cared for me. That's why you became the Dom, so you could give and give. It's your nature, but you've also always had something to prove."

She pulled to the side of the busy airport, pulling up the curb. When she put the car in park, she reached over caress his cheek. "The bill's come due; that's all that's happening to you right now. You never dealt with what you felt because you didn't really believe you deserved absolution."

"And I'm sure my elderly father's almost-death bed is the perfect place to deal with a lifetime of issues." There was a bitter taste in Carlisle's mouth as he said the words. He got out of the car and shoved the door shut with just a bit too much force, but he didn't apologize. His jaw was clenched too tightly to get any words out anyway, and he wasn't sure he could trust himself not to start yelling.

He wanted to yell. Loudly. But what he would scream he had no earthly idea. Words had abandoned him.

Trying again to get a handle on himself, Carlisle went to the trunk and took his suitcase out. He turned, and Esme was already there, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him with a pained expression on her face. When he pushed the trunk closed, she walked the few steps to him and pulled him into her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed, breathing in her comfort like it was air.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

"Is it?"

She stepped back but took his hands in hers. "Whatever happens will be survivable." She winced. "For you, anyway. This is the beginning of the end of this chapter of your life. The complication that is your father. Who knows? Over twenty years without his only child may have given him some perspective. He could apologize to you the minute he sees you."

Carlisle snorted and Esme smiled. "What? It could happen."

"Sure," he said, pulling her in for one more hug before he had to head inside.

He didn't want to admit that there was still a part of him that had some tiny shred of hope. Maybe his father had missed him.

Right. And maybe the Pope would announce a career change to stripper.

Carlisle had no idea what would happen when he touched down on the other end of the country, away from everything and everyone he loved. The beginning of the end, Esme had said. There was nothing to do but live it.

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 **A/N: Soooooooooooo. I know it's a short chappeh, but the next one is almost done, so…**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, so...before you ask, I have no idea what Carlisle's father has. I'm being vague on purpose, drawing on random bits and pieces from all the deaths and illnesses in my family. I'm bad with medical details, so let's just assume Carlisle's father is elderly and he's ill. Roll with me here, my friends.**

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Carlisle pulled his rental car into the hospital parking lot, killed the engine, and just stared straight ahead.

The anger had dissipated for the time being, but it had left a weird, aching void at the center of his chest. He wasn't nervous or anxious, but there was a certain amount of dread playing at the corners of his consciousness. Not because he was scared. He just didn't want to be here, didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to live this particular chapter in his life.

He heard his father's voice in his head, sneering about how much he despised little boys who whined and sniveled. He clenched his jaw and shook the memory away. He wasn't a little boy anymore, hurting because his mother was gone and his father had stopped loving him.

This was a hospital. His territory. Maybe he could try to look at all this clinically, deal with it as a doctor rather than an unwanted son. He took another steadying breath, trying to find his cool, rational, good-under-pressure persona as he headed into the hospital.

He found out his father's room number, and as he made his way there, he considered his options. The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded. So, he was nervous after all.

He'd played out a million scenarios from good to bad to ugly. He'd lived so much of his life being all but positive he'd never see his father again, and here he was.

And his father was yelling. A shudder passed through Carlisle. His voice was different—more raspy with that frail edge of age and illness—but it still sent a wave of anxiety through him. That voice meant trouble was coming.

But not for him. Not anymore.

Carlisle picked up his step, heading for his father's hospital room.

"Go the hell away," William growled at two nurses. "You're always coming in here, poking me and bothering. Then you ask me why I don't get enough sleep. How can a man sleep if you come in here every minute asking me stupid questions, huh?"

"Dad," Carlisle said sharply, and every head in the room—his father and two nurses—snapped up to look at him.

The man in the bed was much changed from the man in Carlisle's memories. William Cullen was intimidating—a powerful figure who radiated strength, dominance, and a cold air of self-righteous disdain. The old man in the bed was gaunt and stooped. His hair, once a lush, light brown, was now white and wispy.

But his eyes… His eyes were sharp as ever, ice blue and harsh. Carlisle automatically stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. There was a long list of things his father had always hated about him that started with his tendency to slouch in his presence.

For a moment, a heartbeat, Carlisle could have sworn he saw light in his father's eyes and the beginning of a smile. Just as quickly, though, his scowl returned in full force and his gaze narrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Carlisle's heart dropped down to his feet at the same time the anger returned. He clenched his fists sporadically at his sides, wishing he'd thought to bring a stress ball or even one of those damn fidget spinners. He breathed in through his nose. "They said you asked for me."

His father scoffed and looked away. "The damn social worker wouldn't leave me alone. I told her fine if she wanted to waste her time tracking you down." He paused a beat. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Well, I did." He took a step forward into the room. "What's going on?" he asked one of the nurses.

They introduced themselves and told Carlisle about William's current condition and that he was being uncooperative this morning, refusing to let them take him for a special treatment. As they gave Carlisle the rundown, William didn't look at any of them. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and was staring out the window. But he didn't stop the nurses from talking to Carlisle, and he had to have known he could have.

Carlisle listened and nodded. At that point, he was still only three steps into the room. His stomach churned with irritation, nerves, and a strange kind of longing. He was suddenly reminded of being small, looking at his father, wishing he would pay attention to him at the same time he hoped he wouldn't. When William paid attention to Carlisle, it was most often because he'd done something wrong.

And Carlisle was always wrong.

"Can you give me a few minutes?" he asked the nurses softly. They agreed and retreated, leaving Carlisle with nothing left to do but cross the room and try to talk to his father for the first time in around twenty years.

Carlisle was well-known for his gentle bedside manner, so as he lowered himself into a chair at his father's bedside, he tried to convince himself this was just another patient. "What's going on, Dad? Why are you fighting your nurses?"

"They're imbeciles," the old man grumbled, still not looking at him. "They don't know their heads from their asses."

"Do you want to elaborate on that?" Carlisle asked when his father fell silent.

William grunted but after a moment, he waved a disgusted hand in the direction of the door. "They pump me full of pills and then ask me why I don't eat. I'm not going to eat anything if I'm just going to throw it back up again. It took them forty minutes to get to me when I spilled my damn drink all over. You think I want to sit there covered in sick?" He scoffed. "Then the geniuses would have no clue how I came down with pneumonia."

Working in a hospital, Carlisle knew damn well a patient's perception of time and the competence of the staff were often diminished. Then again, he also knew that humans were flawed by nature. When nurses and other staff got jaded, burned out or just plain had a bad day, the patients suffered. It wasn't fair, but no industry was without flaws, and the medical industry was no different.

Regardless of the truth, Carlisle's job right then was to validate the patient in the hopes it would make him more cooperative. "That wasn't a good thing. I'm sorry you had to go through that. If it's okay with you, I can talk with the nurses about their treatment, and I can talk to your doctor about your medications. There might be some alternatives. I'd bet it was the pain meds that have you nauseated. There are some that don't manage pain quite as well but don't bother your stomach as much, so if you'd prefer that, it might be an option."

At that, his father finally looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What do you think, you're some kind of doctor?"

Carlisle was taken aback by that, trying to remember if anyone had told him anything about dementia or other memory problems. "Um, yes, Dad. I am a doctor. You paid for medical school."

"There's nothing wrong with my memory," William snapped. "The way you were getting all emotional the last time I saw you, I didn't figure you'd make it. I figured you'd drop out when the going got tough. Aren't doctors supposed to be made of tougher stuff than all that?"

Carlisle dropped his gaze to the floor and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His father always had a talent for making him feel an inch tall. Apparently, some things never changed.

But, again, that awful, insecure feeling vied for attention with indignant fury. William was twisting what had happened the last few times they saw each other.

Before he could convince himself that his father was also a scared, sick old man who was lashing out at an easy target, William spoke again. "Enough with that dog look. If you're still a doctor, you must handle your patients well enough. At least as well as this lot here. That's what counts, I suppose. You're doing well for yourself then?"

Carlisle took a moment, trying to assure that his anger was in check before he answered. This inquiry could be construed as concerned, after all. "I'm a surgeon. A good one. Yes, I do well for myself."

His father nodded once and looked back out the window. "That's good, then."

Carlisle blinked, unsure how to process that. This was so awkward. He shook his head and remembered he was here to do a job, not get approval. He knew what his life was, and his father's opinion was irrelevant.

He stood, putting his hand on the railing. He never sat at his patients' bedside after all. It would help him not confuse his goal here. "Dad, I get that you think the nurses are incompetent but what does that have to do with you refusing this treatment? Your injuries aren't healing correctly." His father was a very sick man, but it was a fall that had him hospitalized and mostly immobile. "Do you have concerns?"

"I'm tired. They don't let me sleep." He grunted. "And they're clumsy. Do you know how many times they bump my leg? As if they forget it's all cut up." He thumped his head against his pillow. "I just don't want to deal with that right now; that's all."

"Fair enough. Do you want to see if you can sleep while I track down your doctor and ask some questions?"

"Your will is your own. I can't stop you any more than I can stop anyone else."

"Yes. Yes, you can." Carlisle needed to be very clear about this point "Your medical care is up to you. The doctors won't talk to me if you don't want them to."

"I already said it's fine. We don't need to examine the point from every angle. I haven't gone idiot yet." William's jaw had gone tense, and he was still looking beyond Carlisle, out the window. "Besides, if you have a mind to kill me too, I can't say I'd have a problem with that at this point."

Carlisle froze, knocked breathless for a moment. "Right," he said, pushing himself away from his father's bedside. "I'll be back."

Before he could make a clean escape, his father's hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist with a surprisingly firm grip. It took all of Carlisle's considerable willpower to stop himself from his automatic reaction, a fight or flight response that spiked his blood pressure and made his heart pound. He clenched his free hand into a fist.

He did not want this man touching him, grabbing him like this. His body still remembered how often that led to pain.

"You're married."

It took Carlisle three whole seconds to process his father's words and when he did, it didn't help matters at all. His whole body was rigid with tension. "Yes," he gritted out.

His father let him go. "You came to your senses, then."

Carlisle clenched his teeth. "Marriage equality was legalized years ago, Dad. I'm married to a man." A wonderful, amazing human being who didn't deserve whatever his father had to say about that. Carlisle was careful not to look at him lest he see disgust written on William's features. He didn't think his temper could take that right then. "Get some sleep. I'll talk to your doctors."

 _ **~0~**_

It took Carlisle a while to talk to the people he needed to talk to, but that was fine. He was in no rush to get back to his father's room. Dealing with hospital staff was in his comfort zone.

There was, however, one other person he was avoiding in this hospital. He wasn't at all surprised when Angela Weber, his father's assigned social worker, tracked him down.

The job of a hospital social worker was wide-reaching. It was their duty to assess patient care from the social perspective rather than the physical. It was often heartbreaking work. Anyone with a suspicious injury got a visit from the hospital social worker. They did their best to find after-hospital support for the homeless population if they needed something after they left the hospital—who would drive them to follow-ups or physical therapy? In cases like his father's, they tried to track down someone to look out for the patient's interest, if not someone to care for them outright.

He'd once seen a social worker in his hospital track down the children of a terribly sick old man. Though Carlisle had only known the patient as gentle, quiet, and lonely, when his kids had been found, it was clear they resented being dragged away from their lives to attend to their ailing father. The eldest sister was very clear as to why. In his younger years, the father had raped and battered his own children. Reprehensible.

But, as it was Carlisle's job to cure the sick regardless of what they'd done, it was a social worker's job to take care of her client. Carlisle reminded himself of that fact repeatedly after Angela introduced herself and asked him to come to her office.

"By now you've had some time to familiarize yourself with your father's case and the reason he's here?" Angela asked after they were both seated.

Carlisle nodded. "He's dying," he said, voice tight. "But he's hospitalized now due to a fall."

"Yes. What you might not know is that this is not the first fall William's had. It's the worst one without a doubt, but not the first."

Carlisle arched an eyebrow. "He's been falling?"

"William and I have a history, you could say. He's in complete control of his mental faculties which is why we have no choice but to let him go back home." She eyed him. "He lives alone, is that correct?"

A hard knot rose to Carlisle's throat. He knew damn well what he must have looked like to an outsider. "Ms. Weber, I haven't seen my father in over twenty years," he said calmly. "The total conversation we've had today consisted of him complaining about the level of care he experienced in this hospital. If you've spoken to him on multiple occasions about his living conditions, I'd have to assume you know more than I do."

To her credit, Angela merely nodded, her expression sympathetic. "Well, the long and short of it is that your father hasn't been taking very good care of himself. Aside from the falls, he's not meeting his nutritional needs. One of the nurses found out he ate from the same tub of macaroni salad for almost two weeks straight."

Carlisle made a face. "That's horrible."

"Yes. Then, when he doesn't feel up to driving, he doesn't make it to doctors' appointments, doesn't fill prescriptions, things like that."

"But all of this is a moot point at the moment, isn't it?" Carlisle asked. "Not that I don't appreciate you making me aware of the situation, but it will be a long time before he can even think about going home at this point. They're having trouble keeping his numbers stable. When they do get that under control and he heals enough from the surgery he underwent that he can be released, he'd still end up under some kind of care facility while he undergoes physical therapy to walk again." It was likely he'd end up in a convalescent home for a time where he could be watched around the clock while he recouped.

Angela nodded slowly. "Dr. Cullen, my aim here is to ensure good, consistent, long-term care for your father. I'm sure you know this, but the percentage of the population over sixty-five has reached unprecedented proportions. People are living longer. Other factors come into play such as the fact people are having children later in life, resulting in them having to care for both small children and the elderly at once. And there are more people, specifically more women, in the workplace than ever before.

"The result is a supply that cannot possibly meet the demand. Someone must care for our elderly, but a market boom always attracts the wrong kind of people. The elderly are an at-risk population, and these conditions have made them extremely vulnerable."

Carlisle nodded, fighting tension and defensiveness. "I'm aware of the problem."

She nodded. "I assume you know how easy it is for our elderly to fall through the cracks. In situations like this, quality control is lacking. I've seen outrageous instances, people who charge exorbitant prices for care and deliver the bare minimum, if that. I've seen facilities hide breakouts of scabies. Facility owners kicking the patient out without adequate notice just because a visitor pissed them off. Bumps and bruises go unexplained. And that was just one patient. Her daughter was very proactive, protecting her interests as best as possible while paying up to $5,400 a month for her mother's board and care."

Angela waved a hand. "The point is, people like your father fare a lot better if there's a dependable party managing their care. Forgetting the future, and where your father will end up once he's released, during this hospital stay alone, William has dealt with countless staff across five different specialties. His mental acuity is good, but he's also very sick. Especially when one of his numbers goes askew, he can be pretty out of it. Of course, all of his doctors and nurses are coordinating care, but it's beneficial to him to have someone helping him keep everything straight so he's better able to make an informed decision about his care."

Carlisle rubbed his temple. He understood exactly what Angela was getting at. He'd come to the conclusion himself after looking at his father's recent medical history, but he hadn't quite processed what it meant for him. "I live across the country, and who knows if he even wants me in his life, dealing with his care long term." He sighed. "Where is his church in all this? My father is a Reverend. All my life he taught me that a church was a community, and when someone is in need, they act. So where are they?"

"As I understand it, William left the church quite some time ago."

Stunned, Carlisle's head shot up and his eyes went wide. "What?"

"I'm afraid I don't know more than that. Believe me, I've been trying to figure out William's support system for about a year now, off and on as he appears in the hospital. He told me he had a son, but it was only yesterday that he told me your name so I could try to find you. He's very much alone."

Carlisle was silent at that, turning the information over in his head. After a few moments he laughed, the sound tired even to his own ears. "My mother died when I was a boy. Did he tell you that?"

"Yes, I knew," Angela said, her voice full of sympathy.

"Did he tell you it was my fault?" Carlisle didn't need an answer, so he continued before she could give one, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead as he spoke. "That man has hated me most of my life." He took a deep breath in and let it out. "But...he took care of me. I had good food, everything I needed for school and my extracurriculars, everything I needed for school, and when I was sick, he made sure I was taken care of. Once, a doctor didn't take me seriously when I said I was in pain. My father wouldn't let him brush me off. He put his foot down, and they ended up finding I had appendicitis that was presenting in an unusual way."

He raised his head and looked at Angela. "I hear you. I don't know what I'm going to do about it, but I hear you."

* * *

 **A/N: Sooooooooooo. We didn't REALLY get to talk to Papa Cullen...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, my doves. Let's see what Edward is up to with his little ones**.

* * *

Edward sat on the couch, his phone in one hand, the thumb of his other hand at his mouth as he chewed on his nail. Realizing what he was doing, he made an effort to put his hand down. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd chewed his fingernails.

Clenching that hand into a fist to help him resist the urge to chew, he turned his attention to the sight in front of him. His little troublemakers, Izzi and Ethan, were bopping. They liked bopping, which included shaking their little butts while they giggled like maniacs, throwing in short bursts of headbanging for good measure.

Lucas, as usual, was calmer than his siblings. Which wasn't to say he was an angel. On the contrary, in many ways he was even more trouble than his brother and sister. His natural toddler curiosity was turned up to warp factor twelve, and he was forever taking apart things he shouldn't have been able to and exploring places he shouldn't have been. It was just that he was, more often than not, silent in his destruction.

Tonight, though, he'd been happily playing with his blocks. He tilted his head, watching his siblings for a moment. Then, he looked at Edward, cocking his head the other way.

Oh, that wasn't a good sign. Edward bit the inside of his cheek and attempted a smile, waggling his fingers at his son. Lucas liked waving. But it was too little too late. The little boy put down his blocks, pushed to his feet—butt first, which was both adorable and hilarious—and ambled over to the couch. He sat down, hands clasped on his lap kind of primly as he looked Edward up and down.

The gig was up; Edward knew it.

"Where's Daddy?" Lucas asked.

Right for the kill. Of course.

There must have been a secret signal. Izzi and Ethan had been perfectly content, but with those words, it was as though Lucas had sent out the rallying cry. They both stopped mid-bop and darted over. "Yeah, where's Daddy?" Izzi lifted her arms for up.

"Is he working still?" Ethan asked as Edward lifted Izzi up onto his lap. He climbed up himself and sat down beside Lucas.

All three of his kids looked at him with expectant eyes, and Edward sighed. The fact their father was missing hadn't upset them. That was to be expected. Carlisle and Edward had been absent come bedtime often enough in their young lives. This, though, was different. And it was how Carlisle had finally convinced Edward not to come with him when he went to see his father. The longest either of them had been away from their kids was around twenty-four hours. If there had been time to prepare them, things might have been different. But since this happened so suddenly, neither of them wanted to leave the kids without both their parents for the first time just like that.

It was his own fault that he would have to have this conversation with them alone. Carlisle had offered. He'd been the one to get the kids ready that morning, spending as much time with them as possible before they were separated. Edward had told him not to tell the kids he was leaving so they would have a good day at daycare, and he wouldn't be burdened by the guilt of leaving his house while his children screamed and cried for him. He didn't need to carry that image with him on top of everything else he was going through.

Then again, there was no guarantee the kids would take the news so poorly. Edward had been known to be more dramatic than the situation called for a time or two in his life.

With a sigh, he adjusted Izzi on his lap and put his arm around both his boys, bringing them in close. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about that." He made sure all the anxiety he felt was smoothed from his features. He hated that he'd had to let Carlisle face his biggest demon by himself, but the kids didn't need to know just how worried he was. They needed reassurance that there was nothing for them to fret about.

"Daddy had to leave this morning. He had to take a plane to go see a patient, and he won't be home for a few days."

Izzi gasped and the boys looked at each other, wide-eyed, before they looked back up at him. "Is he at his hospital?" Ethan asked, pronouncing it aw-pih-tahl, which was one of Edward's favorite things.

"Daddy said he went on a plane," Izzi said in her best my-brothers-are-dumb voice. "You can't take a plane to the hospital."

"You can take a copter," Lucas said thoughtfully.

"Daddy said _plane._ " Izzi looked at Edward. "Right? Daddy went on a plane far away?" Her eyes were big and round and sad.

"Yes. He's far away. Across the country from us right now." Edward smoothed his boys' hair. For once, both Ethan and Lucas looked pensive.

"He's fixing someone?" Ethan asked. "Did the other hospital run out of surgeons?" He pronounced it saw-gens.

"This is a special case," Edward said.

"And only Daddy can help," Izzi said knowingly. She and Lucas often competed for the title of biggest little know-it-all.

"That's right," Edward said, because it was true in its own way. It would be way too complicated to explain to the kids about their grandfather.

Lucas took a deep breath in that way children did when they were trying to be brave and not cry. "Can we Face him?" he asked—the kids' term for video calling.

"How many sleeps is he gone?" Ethan demanded.

"Why is Daddy so special?" Izzi crossed her arms and huffed. "He's not supposed to be gone all the days."

"Daddy, can we Face him?" Lucas tugged at Edward's shirt with increasing need.

"Okay, one question at a time," Edward said gently. "I don't know how many sleeps he'll be gone. He'll tell us as soon as he knows, I promise. I know it's hard that your daddy is so special." He had to smile, tenderness squeezing his heart. "You guys are his babies, which makes you the most special in his eyes, but you're not hurt. You're not sick. You have me and all your aunts and uncles to take care of you." He swallowed hard, reminding himself as well as his kids. "The patient Daddy went to see has no one else. No one in the whole world."

The kids furrowed their brows. They probably couldn't conceive of it. They had so many people who loved and took care of them. He wondered if they could understand the idea of being alone.

He thought about his parents and quickly shut that down.

"Das so sad," Izzi said.

"But Daddy, can we Face him?" Lucas insisted.

"I want to Face Daddy," Ethan agreed.

"I'm sure you can Face him," Edward said, hiding a smile.

"Right now." Ethan got to his feet on the sofa and leaned against Edward's arm. "Where's your phone?"

Edward grabbed his son's ankle and gave him a tug so he slipped forward onto his butt again. That made all the children giggle, breaking some of the tension. "In different parts of the world, it's a different time than it is here," he explained. "It's early where Daddy is, and he's probably busy at the hospital because it's not dark yet."

That set off a whole other round of questioning as the kids hadn't been exposed to time zones before. It distracted them as Edward herded them upstairs for a bath.

Carlisle had been answering Edward's texts with vague, quick replies all day. That was part of what was making Edward so nervous about what was going on. He sent a quick text when the kids were distracted by bubbles.

Edward: Your children are going to spontaneously combust if they don't Face you before bedtime.

Though Edward had spent all day telling himself not to make things more difficult, he knew Carlisle knew him well enough to read the subtext: Your husband will combust if you don't tell him what the hell is going on.

Just as he'd managed to get them all clean, Edward's phone chimed. The kids started to clamor excitedly, hurrying to get out of the water. Edward whistled sharply. "Hey. Be careful. It's slippery and you're all covered with bubbles. Sit down." They all started to protest. "Sit down, and I'll answer the phone."

Thankfully, they obeyed, eager to talk to Daddy. Edward brought his phone up and connected the call. He was relieved when his husband's beautiful face appeared. On the heels of his relief came dismay.

Carlisle looked tired. He looked disheveled and worn and in desperate need of a very long hug from his husband. Edward ached, wishing he was there. "Hey," he said, making an effort to keep things light.

"Hey, you." Carlisle smiled. It was a tired smile, but a genuine one. "It's so good to see your face."

Before Edward could respond, the kids decided they'd waited long enough.

"Daddy, we're here too," Izzi said.

"Daddy, hi." Ethan said, waving his hands and craning as though he could see around the phone from his vantage point.

"Daddy." Lucas frowned at Edward. "He can't see us like that. Turn the phone around."

Edward sent a bemused smile at Carlisle. He looked like he was in his car, so it was safe to flash his naked children without fear someone else would see them. He turned the phone around to their bathful of youngsters.

The kids were overjoyed, each of them crowding in on the others and talking over each other. Luckily, they were more excited at the present time, eager to press Carlisle about how it could possibly still be light out where he was when it was bedtime for them. They showed off their new-found knowledge about timezones as Edward found something to stand the phone against.

He set about the task of getting the kids dry as they babbled to their father. One by one, they were removed from the bath. When a kid was plopped down on the counter, it didn't deter them from talking to their father. First Ethan, than Lucas carried on their conversations in yells until Edward gathered Izzi and the phone away from the bath. It was a precious sight—all three of them wrapped in towels, sitting on the counter. Lucas held the phone on his lap and his siblings bent on either side of them.

Edward suspected it was doing Carlisle a lot of good to hear from his happy, bubbly children, so he let the conversation go on as he towel dried hair and got the kids dressed one by one.

Finally, Edward had to put his foot down. "Okay, little loves. It's bedtime, and I'm sure Daddy has things to do."

There was the predictable chorus of dismay. Lucas whimpered. Izzi and Ethan brought out the dreaded lower lip pout as they looked to Carlisle again. "Daddy, when are you coming home?" Ethan asked in a trembling voice.

Ethan could be fearless, but he could also be a drama queen when the situation required.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Carlisle said with a sigh. "There are a few things I have to take care of. But I promise it won't be so long."

A few more minutes and a few tears later, Edward had the phone back. "I'm going to put the monsters to bed," he told his husband. "Can I call you afterward?"

Carlisle wiped a hand over his face. He looked so drained. "Let me call you. I need to find a hotel." He looked at Edward and smiled tenderly. "I love you, too, baby boy," he said quietly.

Unable to respond as he wanted, Edward kissed his fingertips and put them to Carlisle's face on the screen. Then, he disconnected the call.

Two stories and two songs later, the kids were still fussy. It didn't take much arguing from them to convince Edward to let them sleep in the big bed. He was almost relieved, though he didn't let them see it. He wanted his kids close since he couldn't comfort Carlisle.

So, he got them tucked into his bed and lay down with them for a while. Eventually, their questions tapered off, and his sweet children slept. He kissed them each in turn on the forehead and kissed them again because Carlisle couldn't. He took a picture of them that he captioned, "Aren't the monsters supposed to be under the bed?" and sent it off to Carlisle before he slipped out of the room.

Not two minutes later, his phone chimed. Not a video call. Edward curled up in the big chair in the living room as he connected. "Hello, my love."

"Edward," Carlisle said with a sigh. "How are you?"

"Oh, no. You know how I am. I'm fine. You saw the kids." Edward gentled his tone. "You looked tired before."

This was an understatement, and it was telling that Carlisle didn't deny it. He took a shaky breath before he spoke. "Nothing happened. Not really, but I haven't actually had a conversation with him yet."

Carlisle told him about his day, starting from when he got to his father's hospital room until he'd left the hospital to call his family.

"I didn't go back. To actually talk to him. Be with him." Carlisle sounded so lost it broke Edward's heart. "I know how to be his doctor but not his son."

"You don't owe him anything. Not after what he did. You're doing right by him, making sure he has the right care."

"But that's not all he needs."

Edward was quiet at that. He knew damn well that a patient did best when they had support—someone to sit by their side and just be there.

"I should have gone with you," Edward said. The kids would have been okay, but he wasn't at all sure Carlisle would be. He'd barely talked to the man and already he was overwrought.

"I'll be fine. This…" Carlisle swallowed hard. "It's strange being here. I feel like my life here was two lifetimes ago. Like I was here, and then I had a whole other lifetime between here and you. My life here was mostly awful, my love. I don't want you to be part of this life."

When Carlisle had told him a little about his life with his father after his mother died, Edward wanted nothing more than to take that wounded boy his husband must have been and hold him close, stroke his hair and tell him how much he deserved love. The idea of leaving his fully adult husband in that space didn't make him feel any less helpless and furious.

He swallowed around that impotent thought, looking for a distraction for both of them. He listened for a moment, making sure he didn't hear anything from the kids.

"So…" Edward leaned back in his seat. "In this first life of yours, did you sneak any porn?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "What?" Carlisle said, sounding choked.

"Porn. You know. Girlie mags. Or boyie mags if you were being honest with yourself at that point. Did you take a magazine under the covers with you and have to do that thing where you had to try to take yourself in one hand, the mag in another, and not suffocate before you get off?"

Carlisle laughed, the sound strained with want this time instead of the exhaustion that had creeped into his voice. "What are you doing, brat?"

"Not what I'm doing, Daddy. It's what I'm going to do."

That night, after Carlisle said he had a few things to research, Edward held an impromptu photoshoot. He set up the camera with a timer and took pictures of himself in a few classic poses. He let a blanket hang low off his hips with a tuft of coarse, curly hair just visible. He lay back on the couch, his cock in hand and his sexiest come and get me stare for the camera. He moved to the privacy of Carlisle's study. He mounted the desk and, with his ass facing the camera, he took several photos at various stages of inserting one of their favorite plugs. That one took some doing as he had to stop and set up the camera in between shots every time, but it was worth the effort.

As he edited the photos together into a more easily viewable format, he smiled to himself. He looked damn good, and he knew it. However shitty his day had been, Carlisle's night was about to get a lot better. Eager now, Edward typed up a quick ad, making it look like he was advertising porn, and sent Carlisle a link to the photos.

If this didn't work, then Edward would know Carlisle was much worse off than he was letting on. Wrapped in a robe, sitting in Carlisle's study, Edward waited. Ten agonizing minutes later, his phone chimed. He closed his eyes, sent up a quick prayer to any gods that might exist, and connected the call.

"Hey," he said.

There was a beat on the other end before Carlisle responded. "What are you trying to do to me, beautiful brat?" he asked, his voice husky.

Edward grinned.

* * *

 **A/N: Meep!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, one of you lovely readers noticed that I switched the name of Carlisle's dad from Monroe to William. That was my bad. Let's stick to William!**

* * *

Some years ago, Garrett had put into Carlisle and Edward's heads that playing long distance Daddy could be a fun way to do a scene. Once, when Edward had been bratting the night before he went on a week-long trip, Carlisle had instructed him to spank himself with his hairbrush since he wouldn't be there to do it for him. There was a password protected folder on his computer where he stored videos like that. It was a way of staying connected, and a thrill on top of that. Something about how they could still play even when they were far from each other was special.

And kinky. Very kinky.

Given his beautiful brat's surprise from the night before, Carlisle shouldn't have been surprised to find another prize when he woke the next morning. A video this time. Carlisle groaned, already grinning, and a thrill of anticipation raced through him. He rolled over onto his back and opened the video file.

"Fuck me," Carlisle said on a breath, his cock pulsing at the sight on the screen.

As though he could see him, Edward flashed a devious grin. "Hi, Daddy."

Hi, Daddy indeed. His husband was nude, sitting in the big chair in his office, his legs spread wide so just all of him was on full display—cock and balls and taint. His nipples were adorned with decorative clamps. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair mussed. He was pure sex.

"I really liked our phone call last night." As he spoke, Edward took hold of his cock and began to move his hand in long, slow strokes. "I was thinking of you all night. Thinking of the things you do to me, what you would do to me if you were here."

Carlisle licked his lips, taking himself in hand and moving in time with his husband. When Edward sped up his movement, so did Carlisle. He imagined he was there with Edward, his chest to his back, stroking him, murmuring filthy words against his ear. "You just can't help yourself, can you, brat? What did I tell you would happen if you came without me?"

"Ahh. I know you forbade me to come without you, Daddy." Edward was breathless, pumping himself hard and fast now. "I'm a good boy. I wanna be a good boy for you. Ahh. Ahh."

Carlisle knew his boy so well. He knew what Edward sounded like when he was about to come hard. He recognized the gorgeous noises and little groans. He was so close.

And then he stopped. He whimpered. Whined, his hand still fisted around the base of his rock-hard cock, but he was still. "I'm a good boy." He whispered, breathlessly. "I'm a good boy."

Realizing his boy was edging himself, waiting for Carlisle to come home, sent him right out of his mind. Carlisle didn't stop. He brought himself to release moments later, jerking into his hand.

When he caught his breath again, he was so boneless and relaxed—totally devoid of stress. That, he knew, had been the point.

Edward always said Carlisle was the better of the two of them, always taking care of his boy. Carlisle didn't think his husband gave himself enough credit. He was well taken care of. Loved.

That had been the refrain he'd chanted over and over again, knowing he was dealing with a man who should have loved him but didn't. Edward was working overtime to make sure he felt it to the marrow of his bones now.

He was as centered as he was going to be. It was time to face the day.

~0~

All things considered, Carlisle was in a much better place when he pulled up in front of the hospital the second day of his visit. His husband had worn him out despite the distance, and he'd slept like the dead. Edward's video had left him centered. He got out of the car, his shoulders back and his head held high.

It took him a minute to recognize the emotion coursing through him as he strode into the hospital. It was more than confidence; it was arrogance. He stopped short, taken aback when he realized he'd gone to the opposite end of the spectrum. He was better than his father, and he had the odd sensation that he wanted William to know it, wanted him to feel as small as he'd often made Carlisle feel.

They were vindictive, petty thoughts, and that wasn't the kind of person Carlisle wanted to be. It was especially sickening given where they were. It would be one thing if his father was the powerful man he'd once been, but not here. Not when he was bedridden and dying.

Carlisle breathed deeply, trying to find his compassion again. It drove him up the wall that his father had this kind of power over him—to make him a person he didn't want to be. He didn't want to be like this. He didn't want to be an angry little man who wanted his father to feel less at the end of his life.

Just like that, the peace that had ruled that morning faded into irritation and trepidation. He didn't want to do this. He could help his father as a doctor; that didn't mean he wanted to talk to him as a son.

He hadn't been anyone's son in a long, long time.

Shaking that off, Carlisle started down the hallway toward his father's room again. Unlike the day before, all was relatively quiet, save for the normal sounds of a busy hospital. He hoped his father was asleep.

No such luck. His father was awake, sitting up in bed, studying the covered tray of food on the tray in front of him with a scowl. Carlisle paused, remembering what William had said the day before about his medication making his stomach hurt too much to eat comfortably. "Did they not change your medication?"

His father's head came up. He seemed surprised to see Carlisle. "They did," he said simply.

Carlisle waited for further explanation. When his father was silent, he came into the room. His stomach twisted as he lowered himself into the chair at his father's bedside.

Neither of them spoke. Honestly, Carlisle couldn't for the life of him find words. There was anger simmering under the surface of his skin, but it wasn't a tangible kind of anger. It was closer to resentment, but either way, it didn't feel good. He wanted to feel nothing but compassion. If nothing else, his father was a human being, and he strongly believed all human beings deserved compassion.

His father's jaw worked, as though he too were struggling to find words. For no good reason, that only made Carlisle angrier. He felt like a child again, a surly teenager—full of fury that he just swallowed down day after day.

"So. You have a husband," his father said.

Instantly, Carlisle's hackles raised. "Dad," he said warningly.

William scoffed. "I'd forgotten how exhausting you always were. It's plain conversation, Carlisle, polite conversation to ask after a person's family. If you're ashamed to talk about your husband—"

"I'm not ashamed." The words came out too loud, and Carlisle had to work hard not to snap. This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. "I'm protective," he said when he was sure he could keep his voice steady. "Never in my life have you had a single polite thing to say about a man marrying another man, and that's not something I want to hear when it comes to my husband."

Finally, his father looked at him, and a chill went down Carlisle's spine. This was the glare he remembered from his childhood, all disapproval and dislike. "Did you come here to pick a fight?"

"No. Of course not. I'm not the one who brought my husband into this."

"For goodness sake. It was a very simple question."

Carlisle nodded tightly. "My husband is fine. Thank you for asking. Why did you leave the church?"

William blanched. "I...What on Earth does that have to do with anything?"

"It's polite to ask after someone's family," Carlisle shot back.

His father grunted, looking down at his tray. "What is that term I've heard often enough? Irreconcilable differences. Does your husband have a name? What does he do?"

Carlisle's cheek twitched, and he had to bite back his automatic response to tell William it was none of his business. "I know you think I'm melodramatic, but that isn't what this is about. I already told you. I'm protective of my husband. My marriage is special and beautiful to me. I know very well what you think about my marriage, and my unnatural proclivities." He said the words with venom. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't want his name in your mouth. I don't actually want to fight with you."

He watched his father's jaw work, but to his credit, William just nodded. "If morality was an easy thing, there'd be no need for the guidance of your church. As society goes on, changes, what becomes acceptable to the general public, will not always be the right and moral choice. The world is changing, telling you that there's nothing wrong with this perversion, but their say-so doesn't make it the truth."

Carlisle clenched his jaw, but before he could speak, his father raised a shaky hand. He took a steadying breath and continued. "However, not a single person is without sin. My God is one of compassion and forgiveness. My faith demands the same of me."

He gave a small huff, shaking his head. "The church… I understood the frustration, of course. Through my faith, I have a deep love for my fellow man, and when you love someone, it's especially difficult to watch them choose time and again to embrace sin. Depravity. It seems to me the majority of my church became disheartened by the loss of battle after battle, and it hardened their hearts. When gay marriage became legal, the tone changed from one of compassion, patience, and perseverance to one of exclusion and condemnation.

"Then, there came a time when a member of my faith committed an atrocious sin against his fellow man. He shot and killed two gay men." He swallowed audibly, his jaw tense. "At that point, rather than condemn their actions, the hierarchy encouraged us to stress that this was an inevitable reaction to an increasingly wicked world. To turn people away from this perversion through fear of repercussion."

He sat up straighter then, tilting his chin up in defiance though his eyes were sad. "I felt that reaction could only encourage similar incidents. Not only that, but it's in direct detriment to their ultimate cause. When has violence ever brought others into the fold? Rather, that kind of atrocity only drives people further away from the church. Case in point. That's when I left."

Carlisle stared at his father, shocked and conflicted. Obviously, some of the words William had thrown—perversion and sin—didn't sit well with him. But the news that he had been uncomfortable with the church's reaction to marriage equality knocked him breathless. That he'd completely abandoned his church, if not his faith, over the subject wasn't one he could wrap his head around easily.

"So, you could accept a gay man as part of your congregation, but not as your son?" he finally asked, unable to help himself.

The side of his father's mouth twitched. He didn't answer right away, instead letting the words hang between them for a full minute before he spoke. "No man is without sin or vice. I don't think it makes a man evil to be a sinner. But my duties as the head of your faith, when you had faith, were much different than my duties as your father. I raised you to understand what was right." His eyes found Carlisle's and he looked at him steadily. "I couldn't understand and I don't understand how you became what you are given how you were raised. It's a source of sorrow and frustration, but I never cast you out, Carlisle. I never sent you away."

A lump rose to Carlisle's throat that choked him. All things considered, that was probably a better thing. He had many things to say to that statement, and most of them were venomous.

But he'd also heard the rebuke there, and it wasn't untrue. He'd abandoned his father, not the other way around. He'd had his reasons, but regardless, he'd left his father to live and die alone.

Carlisle sat back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth, trying to unclench his jaw. He had to search to find his calm again.

It had to have cost his father, pride if nothing else, to tell him these things. Carlisle could recognize that. He closed his eyes tightly, reminded himself that his father had been the one to reach out to him, and released a long breath before he spoke. "Edward."

His father's brow furrowed. "What?"

"My husband. His name is Edward. He's a surgeon too. That's how we met."

William nodded slowly. "He must be smart, then."

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Carlisle's mouth, not just because he agreed. He could recognize his father was making an effort to say something nice about Edward, and he'd also managed to say something nice about Carlisle by association. "He's brilliant."

Carlisle leaned forward. "So, why aren't you eating? Are the new medications bothering your stomach as well?"

"No. I'm hungrier than I've been in awhile, in fact." He grimaced and raised his hand. "It's just that eating is sometimes a challenge as well," he admitted.

Carlisle frowned. He'd seen the tremor in his father's hand the day before. It was quite normal, but he hadn't thought of how hard it was to eat lunch—a sandwich that would fall apart and soup—when his hand shook. "Would it help if I cut the sandwich?"

His father seemed relieved. He nodded, and Carlisle pulled the tray toward him. "You can start on that, and I'll find you a coffee cup and warm the soup up. It's easier sometimes to sip it, and the handle of a cup makes it easier to keep steady when you use both hands."

Again, his father nodded. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

A small weight lifted from Carlisle's heart as he nodded back. "You're welcome."

* * *

 **A/N: Sooooooooooo.**

 **Hi.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm back. The boys are back. Let's see what they're up to.**

* * *

It had been an exhausting few days. Carlisle spent a lot of time trying to track down all his father's doctors. Speaking to them, putting together a comprehensive recent history. A low sense of helpless anger had stoked in his gut as he began to realize just how often the ball had been dropped in his father's case. Lazy and missed diagnoses. Needless tests. He'd been through a lot, on his own and infirm. The social worker was right. He'd needed someone to keep track of everything, to keep the legion of doctors and specialists on task.

 _I never sent you away._

He didn't spend as much time with his father as he should have, convincing himself he was doing more by talking with the people trying to help him. And William slept a lot. He needed his sleep.

Navigating a conversation with his father was still like walking a minefield. As guilty as he felt for essentially leaving his father to die alone, he knew his reasons for leaving were valid. William hadn't changed that much. Though he chose his words more carefully, Carlisle was aware he was still a disappointment. A man with ungodly predilections; a disobedient and disrespectful son. William's responsibilities had changed. Carlisle would turn fifty years old in another month; he was well past the age William could teach him anything.

The fourth day he was there, Carlisle didn't see his father until the afternoon. William was in a mood. All these years later, Carlisle still felt a rush of nerves cold at the center of his bones. He smelled trouble, and William delivered almost instantly.

"So, where is your husband?" William asked as soon as they'd exchanged greetings.

Carlisle tensed, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, trying to convince himself that it was a perfectly reasonable question. "He's at home, of course."

"Yes. I'm not an idiot, Carlisle. I'd just like to know what he's doing still there when you're here. Part of the covenant of a true marriage is a measure of support. You want to be treated equally. Normally. Your husband should be here with you."

Carlisle took a deep breath, his jaw clenched. If his father was about to come after Edward, it wasn't going to end well. "My husband has a demanding job."

"He has the same job as you do, and you're here."

"That's different."

William tilted his chin up. "Why is that? Because I'm your responsibility and not his? Part of marriage—"

"We're in different places in our careers, but Edward would be here in a heartbeat if I asked him."

"You shouldn't have to ask. There's no good reason he shouldn't be here with you, supporting you."

Carlisle flexed his fist at his side, fighting back the retort that rose to his tongue. William was so concerned with duty and traditional roles, he wanted to tell him the main reason Edward wasn't right there with him was because he was at home with the children. How was that for his traditional roles?

But he wasn't ready for his father to know about his children. He didn't want to discuss what a same sex marriage was supposed to look like in William's mind.

"Dad, I appreciate your concern for me, but there's a lot you don't know about my life. Whatever you want to believe, my marriage is strong and stable. Edward and I know what's right for us."

His father gave a huff, the look on his face saying clearly he didn't buy it. A sour taste stung the back of his throat. He'd spent so many years rewriting the damage his father had done to his psyche. He'd become a good, accomplished man almost to spite William and his predictions.

Carlisle rubbed his temple, all the things he wanted to say to his father bouncing around his skull. He knew it would do him little good to let any of it come tumbling out. So, he took a deep breath and changed the subject.

 _ **~0~**_

It was early evening by the time Carlisle was on his way back to the hotel. He was drained, but so ready for his nightly call with his family.

He missed them so much. He wanted to hold his babies close to him. He wanted the safety and love he found in Edward's arms. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he thought he was doing so far away from his life.

Wrapped up in daydreams, Carlisle almost dismissed the man sitting in the lobby as a delusion. Then, when he stood up, Carlisle stopped short.

No. His eyes were working just fine. His husband really was there in front of him, his gaze eager but also somewhat pensive.

"Edward?" Carlisle said with a gasp.

Then, Carlisle ran. In the next heartbeat, his dreams came true. He was wrapped up in Edward's embrace, breathing in his scent. "What are you doing here?" he asked against Edward's ear.

"I couldn't do it anymore." Edward combed his fingers through Carlisle's hair and rested against him, cheek to cheek. "I couldn't be so far away from you while you were going through this."

"But the kids —"

"They're fine." Edward pulled back, his arms looped around Carlisle's neck. He flashed a grin. "I left them with Garrett and Kate. No rules and all the ice cream. They're not going to want to come home." He pressed a soft peck to Carlisle's lips. "You're my priority. We're always going to make sure the kids have what they need, but they're going to have their own lives. It's you and me, babe. I have your back forever."

"You bastard," Carlisle said with a laugh, pulling him closer again.

Edward's eyes widened. "What?"

"You made my father right."

"That doesn't sound like something I would do."

Carlisle shook his head. Realizing they were in public, he took a step back, dropping his hand to twine his fingers with Edward. "Come on. I'll explain upstairs."

He told Edward about his day and the things his father had said. It was so much better than being on the phone, to stretch out on the bed, his head in his husband's lap, Edward's fingers gently scratching his scalp.

"So, his stance is that we queers can't possibly get marriage right?" Edward clucked his tongue. "What have I been doing for the past eight years?"

"I don't know exactly what his problem is, and I don't want to know." Carlisle sighed. "That's part of the problem."

"What problem is that?"

Carlisle paused. He was suddenly infinitely glad Edward was here. The conversation they had to have would be so much easier in person. Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to have it yet.

He sat up and kissed Edward—a long, deep kiss. As he did, the anxiety he'd lived with since he received the call about his father eased. This man was his peace. His center. His light in the darkness. He stroked Edward's cheek, marveling, as he often did, that he could be so lucky.

"Let's talk about it later, okay?" Carlisle said, pulling back. "I know you like to shower after traveling. Go wash the grime off, and we'll find some dinner, okay?"

Edward gave him a look that said clearly how much he wanted to push. The twenty-four-year old man Carlisle had met all those years ago would have pushed. The man he had become nodded and kissed Carlisle sweetly once more before he disappeared into the bathroom.

While Edward showered, Carlisle sat with his back against the headboard, hands clasped behind his head, listening to the sound of running water. Edward, more often than not, sang in the shower. Carlisle was surprised by the well of emotion the sound of his husband's rich tenor brought on.

He'd been so profoundly lonely. It was part of why he hadn't wanted to imagine Edward, the bright center of his universe, in this cold, desolate place. There were no good memories here; just the leftover specter of the childhood he'd spent feeling worthless and wrong. Even now, knowing at his core it wasn't true, that old sense of isolation nagged at him, creeping in under his skin.

There was no love for him here. No warmth.

An odd sense of panic clawed at him, closing his throat and sending his heart pounding. He got up from the bed. He was so far from his own life, where he was loved and cherished.

The shower stopped and Carlisle moved without thinking. He opened the bathroom door. When Edward's hand appeared from the steam, groping for a towel, he took it, pulling his husband from the shower stall and spinning him. He brought Edward, naked and wet, against him, his back against Carlisle's chest.

"Carlisle?" Edward asked, clearly startled. He brought his hand to rest over Carlisle's on his chest.

Carlisle tilted his head, running his nose along Edward's neck. He breathed in his fresh, clean scent.

There was one way he knew to block out the rest of the world. When he was with Edward in scene, the whole rest of the world melted away, and they existed together in a safe, if intense, bubble of trust, pleasure, and love. He wanted to disappear to that world, where there was only Edward, where all his concentration and concern was wrapped up in this one man.

"I heard you were so, so good while I was away, baby boy," Carlisle murmured against Edward's ear.

Edward sucked in a breath. "So good for you, Daddy. I waited."

"You did." Carlisle took the lobe of his ear in his mouth, nibbling just a little. As he did, he rubbed his hand around and around Edward's stomach, teasing his fingers lower with each pass. When Edward whimpered, thrusting his hips forward, Carlisle grinned. "Do you want me to touch you, little one?"

"Yes. Please. _Please."_

Carlisle took Edward's cock in a firm grip and stroked. He licked the drops of shower water from his shoulder. "You're going to come for me so hard, aren't you?"

Edward moaned, leaning his head back. "It's not going to take long."

"Oh, really" Carlisle slowed his stroke to a caress, running his fingertips over Edward's cock with a gentle touch. "Challenge accepted."

"What?" Edward groaned. "Oh, God. No."

"No?" Carlisle released him and took a step back. "Well, if you say so."

"No!" Edward spun around and put his arms around Carlisle's neck. "Please, Daddy." He kissed him. "I need you."

Carlisle kissed him, pressing his tongue into his mouth. It was a slow, sensual kiss, and he trailed his fingers up and down Edward's spine, feeling the way he shivered. He waited, knowing the sounds of his husband's excitement intimately. Only when Edward sighed into his mouth, relaxing into the slow-burn of the kiss did Carlisle act. He took a firm grip on Edward's hips and spun him around.

Edward gasped at the rough movement, catching himself on the edge of the counter. Carlisle didn't give him time to catch up before he stepped up behind him, wrapping the base of his cock in a firm, almost too-hard grip. "Oh, hell," Edward said, the words breathy as Carlisle began to stroke him.

Carlisle pressed tiny kisses to his shoulder and neck. "Are you going to come before I say so, little boy?"

Edward shook his head, leaning back so his ass brushed Carlisle's front. "No."

Carlisle delivered a sharp smack right to one ass cheek, making Edward yelp in surprise. "You forget yourself, pet. I let it slide before, but that's the only warning you're going to get. No what?"

"No, sir."

"Good." Carlisle stroked his cock and kissed his cheek. "You're my good boy, aren't you?"

"So good for you." Edward's shoulders drew together in the middle as Carlisle increased his speed just that much more.

Carlisle worked him then, one hand firm on his cock. He stroked him fast, then slowed, worked him to a fever pitch, then backed off.

"Oh, hell. Oh, no," Edward panted when Carlisle slipped a finger inside him.

"Are you going to come before I want you to?" Carlisle demanded, working him with two fingers now, still stroking.

Edward let out a small cry and braced his arms on the counter, bowing his head. "No, sir. No, Daddy. I'm a good boy."

"So good." He let go of Edward's thick, stiff cock and grabbed hold of his own, letting his pants slip down to puddle at their feet. He rubbed the head of his cock along the slit of Edward's entrance. "Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ask nicely."

Edward gulped. He arched his back, his legs spreading just a little wider, inviting him inside. "Please, Daddy. I need your cock inside me. Please fuck me hard."

Carlisle pushed the head of his cock into Edward's heat. He was teasing them both. Watching his beautiful boy come undone was always Carlisle's favorite thing. And Edward was shaking, trembling with need. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, the steam in the room long having become too-hot for what they were doing.

Edward moaned again, and Carlisle knew he'd realized he wasn't going to get the fast, hard fuck he wanted. Not yet. Though it took all Carlisle's considerable willpower not to pound into him. They both wanted it, but Carlisle wanted to bring him to that exquisite edge just one more time.

So, he slid in slowly, inch by inch, rubbing Edward's cock—stiff and straight as it was—with his fingertips. He kissed the shell of his ear, as though Edward had asked for a sensual fuck. His boy whimpered, but slowed the thrust of his own body to match the slow, easy rhythm Carlisle set.

Carlisle brushed his fingers through Edward's hair, stroking the damp strands out of his face. He cupped the top of Edward's head, tilting it up. With his other hand, he wiped away a streak of steam from the mirror. "Look at us, baby. Watch us." His eyes met Edward's in the mirror. "Watch me take you. See how pretty you look when you come for me."

He thrust into Edward, both of them watching in the mirror. Ever so slowly, Carlisle picked up the rhythm. When Edward bowed his head, crying out with pleasure, Carlisle grabbed him by his hair, lifting it back up. Edward sucked in a breath, his ass clamping around Carlisle so it was him who had to smother a moan. Carlisle swallowed hard. "Didn't I tell you to watch?" he asked in his best naughty-naughty voice. Though it pained him to do it, he stilled his movements.

"I'm watching. I'm sorry, sir. Please. Please, fuck me."

Carlisle held still for one, two, three of the longest seconds as Edward chanted, "Please, please, please," under his breath, his eyes dark on Carlisle's in the mirror. Then, holding his husband's gaze, Carlisle started to fuck him just the way he wanted, needed. Hard and fast, driving him into the counter.

"Come for me, little one. Let me see you come undone."

Edward wailed when he came, his body jerking as if in seizure. Carlisle had a fraction of a second to hope the walls of the hotel were thick before he joined him.

When Carlisle thought he could breathe again, he gathered Edward into his arms, pulling him back against his chest, holding his shaking boy up. He kissed him, stealing his panting breaths. He led him back to the shower, and once the water was on, Edward sank to his knees. He looked up with hooded, adoring eyes, lost, as Carlisle was, to this bubble of space, this world that was only them. Edward pressed kisses to Carlisle's thighs. He took his flaccid cock in hand, washing it, worshipping it with kisses as he did.

Carlisle reached down, bringing Edward to his now-steady feet. He kissed him once before he turned him around, moving his hands to brace against the wall. Then, he washed his boy clean, worshipping him with the same reverence Edward had shown him.

When they were both clean, they returned to the hotel room. They sat on the bed and kissed for minutes that stretched into a full hour, their hands roaming and caressing. For the first time in days, Carlisle felt warm and whole.

* * *

 **A/N: Soooooooooooo. Then, they got kicked out of the hotel. Hehehe.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hola! Let's do this thing.**

* * *

When he realized just how tense he was, Edward released a breath in a gust. He shook his head and laughed at himself.

Carlisle stopped and cocked his head, looking at him. "What's so funny?"

"We are." Edward tugged Carlisle off to the side and took both his hands. He let his eyes roam over his husband's face, shivering with the intensity of the pull he felt. He adored this man, _his_ precious man. He brushed his fingers through the gray streaks at Carlisle's temple. "We're quite a pair."

Carlisle put his free hand to Edward's hip in a possessive gesture and leaned in to kiss his lips sweetly. "We are, but what are you thinking?"

Edward sighed, his smile falling. "You still don't want me in the same room as your father."

Carlisle's smile followed Edward's, and he ducked his head. "No, I really don't."

"Yeah." Edward stepped closer, dropping his voice. "I get that. There's a difference, isn't there? Parents can do so much damage to us, and we'll tolerate it. But my parents…" He ducked his head and swallowed hard. "When they hurt my kids and you? That's when I stopped being able to forgive them."

"I stopped being able to forgive my father a long time before I met you," Carlisle said, sounding ashamed.

"That's different." Edward cupped a hand to his husband's cheek. "My parents were cold. Your father was malicious." He had to swallow again, trying hard to bite down the rush of anger that went through him. "When my parents hurt our family, that was also when I really saw the damage your father had done. Believe me, my love. I haven't changed my mind either. I don't want you anywhere near him.

"This man can't take our children away. They're protected. And he can't take you away from me. So there's not a damn thing he can say or do that will hurt me. Don't worry about me, Carlisle. We're going to face this together from now on."

His husband studied him for a long moment, his sad eyes serious. "But you still get to worry about me?"

Edward flinched and looked him in the eyes. "He's still your father. There's no getting around that."

"Yeah." Carlisle's hand brushed up and down his side absently. "Do you miss your parents, Edward?"

The words took Edward by surprise, and he sucked in a gust of air. Then, he blew it out slowly, considering. "Sometimes."

Before they could delve into that—where Carlisle was going with that line of questioning, Edward could only guess—a passing nurse came to a halt beside them. She put a hand on her hip, giving Edward a blatant once over. Her face lit up in a grin as she looked to Carlisle. "Is this your husband, Dr. Cullen?"

That broke the heavy mood that had come over them. Carlisle straightened up and smiled, wrapping an arm around Edward in a proud, possessive gesture. "This _is_ my husband, Dr. Cullen."

Edward rolled his eyes fondly. He offered the nurse his hand. "Edward," he introduced himself.

"I'm Jackie, William's nurse today." She shook his hand. "Well, you know what? Today is one of the few days I'm glad science hasn't caught up with us. Can you imagine how unfair it would be if you two were able to procreate? That's too much good-looking for this world."

Edward and Carlisle exchanged a glance, smiling. "I'm more than glad our kids look like him," Carlisle said, stroking Edward's back.

Jackie's eyes grew wide and bright. "You have kids?" She gave Carlisle a light smack to his arm. "You never told me that."

"I'm telling you now."

Heaven help the poor fool who got Carlisle and Edward Cullen talking about their children. The nurse was subjected to photos which she, whether out of genuine interest or simple politeness, ooh'd and ah'd over.

"Look at you two. Proud daddies. They're beauties. Look at those smiles," she cooed.

Carlisle looked up at Edward, his expression tender. "I do love their smiles." He sighed. "Well. Let me go see if he's awake."

"He was when I left him," Jackie said, watching with Edward as Carlisle disappeared into his father's room. When he was gone, Jackie looked to Edward. "Your husband seems like such a good man."

"The best," Edward agreed.

Jackie quirked an eyebrow, her eyes flashing with mischief. "He's a whole new man with you here with him. I didn't think he could get more good-looking, but the way he looks at you has taken years off his pretty, pretty face." She chuckled. "That's nice to see. Two people so good for each other."

She gave his arm a squeeze and went about her business, leaving Edward relatively alone in the hallway. He ducked his head, bemused. "So easy, isn't it?" he said to nothing.

For someone to just see them as they were—two men who loved each other, who'd built a life together. Why was it so hard for some people to see them as equal to anyone else? Why did people like Carlisle's father, and his own parents for that matter, get stuck on what they meant to each other based simply on their genitals? It was so strange to think of how many people automatically dismissed what he had with his husband when it was the most real and beautiful thing Edward had ever known.

Carlisle reappeared in the doorway then, his eyes tight at the corners. He inhaled and raised his head, squared his shoulders. Like a man, Edward's father would have said. Then, he extended a hand toward Edward. The words written all over his features were as clear as though he'd spoken them out loud.

 _No matter what happens here, I will never be anything but proud to call you mine._

Edward slipped his hand into his husbands' and twined their fingers tightly, looking back at him.

 _I love you now without condition. It's true now, and it'll be true when this is over._

Carlisle nodded to him, and stepped back into his father's hospital room, pulling Edward with him.

Edward's first impression of William Cullen was that he couldn't possibly have been scary to anyone. He was an old, frail, obviously sick man. But then, Edward looked at his eyes. Ice blue eyes that pierced him as if he were staring into Edward's soul.

"Dad, this is my husband. Edward. Edward my father, William Cullen."

"Edward what?" William asked, shaking Edward's hand with a surprisingly firm grip.

"I'm sorry?" Edward said, brow furrowed.

"Your surname," William said.

"Cullen, Dad." Already Carlisle's voice sounded tight. "Dr. Edward Anthony Cullen."

William finally let go of Edward's hand still pinning him with his eyes. "I'm sure your _young_ man can speak for himself, Carlisle."

Neither of them missed the emphasis on young. A flicker of annoyance passed through Edward. He was in his thirties for chrissakes. It wasn't as though he was a child. "Yes, sir. I changed my name to Cullen when we were married. I was proud to take the name of a man as good as your son."

"So, you weren't proud of your own family then?"

"Dad."

"It's okay." Edward reached out to take Carlisle's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "I like the idea of spouses sharing a name. I wasn't overly attached to Masen, so here we are."

Carlisle guided him toward the seat at the side of the bed. Though Edward wanted to stand tall, he sensed Carlisle needed to protect him. He let himself be guided into the seat, and when Carlisle came to stand behind him, Edward put a hand over his on his chest. He saw William take them in. The old man gave a small huff, and looked away.

"It was nice of you to make room in your busy schedule to visit," William said.

Edward was confused by that comment, but before he could speak, Carlisle responded in a clipped, angry tone he'd never heard before. "Shouldn't you be pleased? As it happened, Edward agreed with you that he should be with me."

William turned to his son. "I think it's awfully convenient that when I raised a concern with you, your story changed and your husband magically appeared." He shook his head. "Don't put on a show for my sake. I can accept you've made your choice to lie with men, but playing at marriage is another matter altogether."

"Playing?" Edward protested.

"You think marriage is a matter of a name change?"

"Dad—"

"It's okay, Carlisle." Edward patted his hand, pleased that his voice was still steady though he was seething. "You think two men can't have a normal marriage. That's the argument, right?"

"I'm not here to argue anything. It's just difficult to see my own son make a mockery of a sacred institution."

"How's that, exactly?" Edward asked, again keeping his tone polite. He kept hold of Carlisle's hand, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles. "I've been with Carlisle for nearly a decade now. I vowed to love, honor, and cherish him. We've built a life together from our finances, to our home. Every aspect of our lives is connected. I didn't take Carlisle's name as part of an act, and I know plenty of heterosexual, married women who didn't change their names. It was just meaningful to me to have the same name as my husband. So tell me, sir, what is it you think makes my marriage a mockery?"

William stared back at him, his mouth set in a hard line. "It's not natural. A union should be able to produce children."

Behind Edward, Carlisle laughed. "By that logic, any marriage I had with a woman would be unnatural and a mockery. You know I'm sterile. My children were never going to share my biology, but they're mine. They were conceived and born into a loving, committed union, and they're…"

Carlisle trailed off, and Edward knew he'd realized what he'd done. His own heartbeat picked up, beating a nervous rhythm as he saw comprehension cross William's features. "You have children?"

Edward squeezed Carlisle's hand again, hard. Carlisle let out a slow gust. "Yes. We have three beautiful children."

"You didn't say." William sounded hurt.

"Because I don't want to hear anything you'd possibly have to say about my kids," Carlisle shot back. "You've made it perfectly clear what you think about my marriage and the man I've chosen to spend my life with. I don't want to know what you think about how the two of us, as wrong as we are, must be ruining our children's lives, if not their souls."

"You're being dramatic again, and over-sensitive."

"That's enough," Edward said sharply. He had to grip the sides of his chair. Intimidating a bedridden man was rather redundant. He did look the man in the eyes, holding his ice-cold glare. "Listen to me, okay? I'd like you to listen, because I don't think you want your son to walk out on you again, and I know Carlisle would prefer not to."

"He's responsible for his own actions same as anyone else. I never forced him to walk away."

Edward felt Carlisle flinch, and he reached back to take his hand again. He continued to stare steadily at William. "You're not responsible for what Carlisle does, no, but you are responsible for the things that come out of your mouth. I'm not asking you to talk it out. I'm asking you to listen for one minute. Can you do that?"

William's nostrils flared, but he gave a short nod. "Say what you have to say. I'm tired, and I'd like to get some rest."

Edward nodded. "Fair enough. Listen to me, and then we'll leave you alone."

He waited another moment. William wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring up at nothing, his jaw obviously clenched. Edward took it as acceptance to his terms. "I can understand what you're going through to an extent," he said, making his tone soft but strong. "You were raised to believe reality is one way and one way only. There are men and there are women. You need one of each to make a good, righteous life.

"I can understand that even if I don't believe in it myself. I can't for the life of me figure out why it would bother you so much that someone doesn't believe what you do. Carlisle and I are consenting adults, and no matter what else you think of what we do in the privacy of our own bedroom, we make each other happy. We lead good lives and our children are well loved and well provided for."

Edward took a deep breath. William hadn't moved much, but Edward thought he was still listening. "I know you're struggling because your reality tells you that we're wrong, and you don't want that for your son. You want him to be in the right. I believe you want what's best for him, even if he doesn't agree with what you think is right or good.

"Whether or not you think Carlisle makes the right choices is irrelevant. He's your son, and he wants to help you." Edward had to swallow around the lump of bile that rose to his throat, fighting back his instinct to speak the next words. "And that means I want to help you. Believe me, Mr. Cullen, I don't approve of you anymore than you approve of me. There's plenty about you, at least the you you've shown me, that I'd like to change.

"But, now that we know what we don't like about each other, why don't we forget about the things we can't change and try to find some common ground? How about a do-over?" Holds hand out. "I'm Edward Anthony Cullen, and I'm your son's husband. It's nice to meet you."

The air was heavy with tension. Edward saw William's nostrils flare. But, after a moment, he swallowed hard and took Edward's hand, giving it a firm shake. "I'm William." His gaze darted to his son above Edward's head and then back. "Carlisle's father."

The tension eased, and everyone seemed to take a deep breath. William nodded as though settling something inside himself. His glance when he looked again at Carlisle was almost furtive, though he did tilt his chin up. "Do you have a picture?"

There was a beat of silence, and Edward tensed. He heard Carlisle take a steadying breath before he asked, "Of what?"

"Your children. They're my grandchildren, right?"

The words seemed awkward as William said them, and Edward's lips quirked the slightest bit. They'd encountered this before. Some people couldn't quite wrap their heads around the logistics of two men having children.

"Yes," Carlisle said after a moment. "They're my kids, so they're your grandkids." He stepped around the chair and only hesitated slightly before he handed his father his phone. "Ethan Jackson, Isabella Daria, and Lucas Liam Cullen."

William's eyebrows shot for his hairlines. "Triplets?"

"It happens more often when there are fertility issues. We used a donor egg, and they were carried by a dear friend of ours."

William hummed his understanding, but Edward caught a quick glance his way. Had he put together that Edward was the biological father? It didn't matter to them—they were the only parents their children would have and that was the end of it—but people tended to get stuck on biology.

"They're still babies," William murmured instead, the smallest of smiles playing on his face as Carlisle flipped the photo for him.

"They'll be three in a few more weeks."

William grunted and handed the phone back to Carlisle. "They seem like they'd be a handful."

"Never a dull moment."

"That's good." William leaned back against his pillow. "Children are a joy."

Carlisle was quiet at that. Edward bit his tongue. If William had thought his own child was a joy, he'd had a horrible way of showing it.

"Are you still tired, Dad?" Carlisle said after a moment.

William made a face but he nodded. "It would be nice to be awake for more than six hours at a time."

Edward stood up as Carlisle gave his father's shoulder a light pat. "You'll need some strength to get through physical therapy in an hour. I'll be back then."

William made a noise of acknowledgment, but his eyes were already closing as Edward and Carlisle got to the door.

As soon as they were safely in the hallway, Carlisle surprised Edward by pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He released him after a few seconds only to take his face in his hands and kiss him.

Edward sighed into Carlisle's mouth, winding his arms around him, holding him and kissing him back. They only parted when someone cleared their throat, tossing them a disgruntled look as they walked past. Carlisle chuckled softly and tilted his head against Edward's. They were both breathless.

"I love you," Carlisle whispered near his ear.

"I love you too." Edward ran his fingers through Carlisle's hair, looking him over carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course. Just...thank you."

Edward was about to ask what on earth Carlisle could be thanking him for when he suddenly realized he knew the answer.

This was probably the only time in Carlisle's life that anyone had stood up to his father in his name.

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 **A/N: I'm pretty sure my prereaders have no qualms about pulling the plug on an infirm (fictional) old man. I lol'ed.**

 **How are you all doing?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I want to take a minute to thank the anon who wrote me a beautiful novel, detailing the future of this family. I love it so much. Thank you for that.**

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It was a long day. A long, very awkward day when they were in the same room as his father. Carlisle was quiet as he drove, holding Edward's hand over the shifter.

There had been one upside to the day. He'd been able to see Dr. Edward Cullen in action again. Since they'd had to go their separate ways professionally when they started dating, he'd only seen his husband in his element a handful of times. It brought back memories of how often he'd watched him, knowing this kid was something special. He hadn't known at the time just how right he was.

"Are you doing okay with all this?" Edward asked as they parked.

Carlisle didn't answer right away. He waited until they were walking toward the elevator hand in hand. "I'm okay," he said, surprised he meant it. "Really, I'm more than okay. It was good to get your perspective. I was afraid I was seeing things wrong." He squeezed Edward's hand as they stepped out on their floor. "And I just had the two conversations I never wanted to have with my father, and not only am I'm still standing, but I think I came out on top."

Edward waggled his eyebrows playfully. "You usually do come on top."

Carlisle shook his head, grinning at his beautiful boy. Edward's mischievous smile fell into a more thoughtful look. "He's…" Edward rubbed his chin with his free hand. "He's a contradiction."

"Is he?"

"I think he's conflicted. He wants to be the man you knew—disapproving and stern. He still thinks you're wrong. But I think part of him, a big part, recognizes that being who he was cost him his family. It cost him you."

Carlisle hummed, not sure what he thought about that. He'd been laboring under the idea his father loved him out of duty. He hadn't kicked him out because it was the wrong thing to do. He let Carlisle do his duty as a son because that was the way the world was supposed to work.

As they got into their room, Carlisle's pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone and smiled with genuine joy. "It's the monsters." He turned the phone around to show Edward the video-call request from Garrett on his screen.

Edward let his jaw drop wide. "We, a couple of queers, have children? Normal, healthy, semi-well-behaved children?" He put his hands to his head. "And we left them with a deviant bisexual?"

"That was your call." Carlisle shook his head. "Come on," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the bed.

"Answer the phone before your heathens explode. I'll be there in a second."

Carlisle stretched out on the bed and connected the call. He smiled, a great peace and joy soothing the roiling his stomach had been doing since he left his father's hospital room. There was Garrett looking harried as Ethan and Izzy bounced excitedly on either side of him. Kate stood behind the couch, Lucas perched on her hip. He had two fingers in his mouth and tears in his eyes. "Hello, monsters," Carlisle said quietly.

A chorus of "Daddy," rang out, and all three of them started to talk over each other.

"Daddy, daddy. Katie and Gary have a swing inside the house," Izzy said, shouting over her brothers. "I wanna swing in the house!"

On screen, Garrett's eyes went wide. He put his arms around Ethan and Izzy's shoulders and his hands over their mouths. Behind him, Kate did a facepalm, shaking her head. Garrett laughed nervously. "So… I don't know if you noticed, but there are three of them, and they're surprisingly fast for people with short, stubby legs."

Edward dropped onto the bed beside Carlisle, handing him a drink he'd made at the mini-bar. "See what I mean?" he said into Carlisle's ear. "Deviant bisexual. The kids don't have a chance." He sighed with mock gravity and brought his own drink to his lips.

"Locks are your friend, _Gary,_ " Carlisle said. "And will you three quiet down. I can't hear you if you all speak at once. Before you can ask, you can have a swing in the house when you're grown up and it's your own house."

"I'm neva eva having my own house, Daddy. I don't not need a swing inside. Outside is okay," Lucas said, nodding.

"Are you okay, Luke?" Edward asked, putting his drink on the nightstand so he could lay with his head on Carlisle's shoulder.

Their son's lower lip trembled. "I don't want to live here," he said almost too quietly for them to hear over the video.

"We don't live here," Ethan said. "We still live at home." But there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. He looked to the camera. "Right Daddies?"

"Of course." Carlisle exchanged confused and concerned looks with his husband.

Kate caressed Lucas's hair. "Lucas was a little spooked by the overnight visit, I think. He's always gone home at the end of the day."

"Oh, honey," Edward said. "No, you don't live with Kate and Garrett. They're only taking care of you because Daddy and I have to be far away for a little while."

"How long?"

"When are you coming home, Daddies?"

They were talking over each other again, but all with the same theme. They wanted their daddies back.

"Settle down," Carlisle said in his 'daddy means business' voice.

They quieted enough that Edward could speak. "I know this is new for you. You know sometimes Daddy or I have to go away for a few days, but we've never been gone together. I know it's hard, but Kate and Garrett are taking good care of you, right?"

Three little heads nodded in unison, and then they were off talking about the adventures they'd had at Katie and Gary's house. Apparently, the park near their house was superior because it had a dog park and maybe, if they couldn't have an indoor swing, a dog would be an acceptable alternative.

"I already asked Gary for one, but he said to talk to you," Ethan said, eyes bright with hope.

"Don't say no, Daddies. Please don't say no," Izzy said, eyes wide.

Carlisle sighed. He had the strong urge to give his children whatever their hearts desired when they used those sweet voices. Plus, he felt guilty. He should have wanted Edward home with them more than he wanted to keep his husband by his side for this. "You know, they don't let you get dogs until you're at least five."

There was a clamoring of aw's. Liam gave him a look. Carlisle had to laugh. The little boy was amazingly perceptive. "Promise. It's a rule at the dog pound," he said, winking. "But Daddy and I are going to bring you all something really nice, okay?"

Izzy pouted her lip all the way out. "Gary told Katie that good girls get tops. Can I have one of those?"

Carlisle choked on air, and Edward coughed into his hand. "Sure," Edward said. "You can have a top. Spins around. Good dexterity skills."

"Good girls get _to_ top?" Carlisle guessed when Katie had corralled the kids and Garrett was alone on the couch looking tired.

Garrett looked sheepish. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your kids are making me rethink saying no to the vasectomy Kate wants me to get."

"Damn. I guess we have to keep them," Edward said dryly.

"Our wicked plan failed. Woe is us," Carlisle said with a dramatic sigh.

Garrett smiled. "They're great kids."

Carlisle and Edward exchanged another look. Edward took his free hand and squeezed. "I think we got a thing or two right."

"Look, I know we got a couple of things wrong off the bat, but we're getting into the swing of things," Garrett said.

"Weren't swings what got you into trouble?" Carlisle said.

Garrett turned pink. He cleared his throat. "Anyway. What I'm saying is, we got this for a few more days if you need."

"And it's still okay for Jacob to come over to your place while you two are at work?" Edward checked, speaking of the kids' nanny. "I don't want them getting confused going back and forth."

"It's fine." Garrett quirked an eyebrow. "I assume he knows how not to open doors he's not supposed to."

They hung up after a few more minutes of conversation, and Carlisle rolled onto his side. He splayed his hand wide over Edward's belly, stroking him, and just looking at him. Edward raised a hand, brushing his fingers over Carlisle's features.

Carlisle sighed. "They're going to release Dad tomorrow."

"Mmhmm." Edward waited, his eyes soft.

Carlisle sighed again and lay down, tucking his face into Edward's shoulder and throwing an arm around him. "He never abandoned me," he said, trying to process the impossible things going through his mind.

"I know." Edward pressed this thumb to the space behind Carlisle's ear, rubbing in slow circles. "You know he forced you to save yourself, right?"

Carlisle ducked his head down further, muttering something nonsensical against Edward's skin.

Edward didn't have to hear the words he was trying to say. "You want to bring him home with us."

"No." Carlisle raised his head. "It's really not what I want, but I can't get around the idea it's the right thing to do. The state of elder care just isn't ideal. Someone needs to take charge of everything, and he doesn't have anyone else.

"I don't think he should live with us. We can bring him to our house only until we find a suitable home nearby, somewhere I can be current with his care."

"That makes sense," Edward said, his eyes roaming Carlisle's face with concern. "I can see your Dad is trying not to be an asshole. But I really hate the effect he has on you." He smiled sadly. "You always have your emotions under such tight control. When something shakes you, I know it goes deep."

Carlisle took a deep breath. "I know. I've thought of that, but I've also thought about the fact there's only one right thing to do. He has power over me. I can't deny that, but I also can't say it's the same kind of power he had when I was in my twenties."

"You mean he can't destroy you."

"No. He doesn't have that power anymore." Carlisle lowered himself down, taking a sweet kiss from Edward's lips. "You have that power, baby. I think you're the only one."

"I'd never use it."

"I know that."

Edward raised up on his elbows, brushing Carlisle's nose with his. "This thing we got here? It's unconditional. They say parents' love should be the unconditional kind of love, but that didn't happen. Not for you, and not for me. I think that's one of the reasons we found each other."

Carlisle closed his eyes, and leaned in to kiss Edward again. It was a slow kiss. A serious kiss. Speaking to his soul.

"I already told you," Edward said, breathless when their kiss broke. "Whatever you need to do, I'm going to be standing right beside you. We'll figure out the logistics."

"Do you know how much I love you?" Carlisle asked.

Edward smirked. "Yeah. Haven't you been listening? Unconditionally. I gave a whole monologue about it."

Carlisle laughed and curved his hand at Edward's hip. "You are a sassy little boy, aren't you?" He leaned in, taking Edward's lips again. He moved, tangling himself up in his husband.

 _ **~0~**_

Carlisle was more calm than he thought he would be. He slipped into the seat beside his father at nearly noon. The old man was asleep.

For minutes, Carlisle just looked at his father. He checked himself time and again, asking one disturbing question over and over to make sure he was clear on the answer.

This man had put him through no small amount of torment. It was the only ethical thing to do—to ask himself if he could do this. If he could be in charge of these kinds of decisions. He had to be able to keep his head clear.

He was proposing to let this man near his children. He'd have to be able to make the best decision about his healthcare minutes after the man said something he didn't like to his impressionable babies. The idea they would be exposed to the kind of judgmental, holier-than-thou garbage he'd grown up with made his blood boil.

William stirred, coming awake with a cough. Carlisle rose and brought a glass of water to his father's lips, helping him guide the straw into his mouth.

"Thank you," William said, his voice raspy. He leaned back against his pillow. "I'm not fond of this hospital. It'll be good to get out."

Carlisle hummed in acknowledgment as he sat back down. He considered his father for a few more seconds before he spoke. "You know you can't live alone anymore, Dad."

William let out a long breath and turned to look out the window. "Yes, well. I'm sure I'll be fine. Nothing left for you to worry about."

"Yes, well. I don't think that's the best option."

"Oh?"

Here went nothing. "I know how you feel about how I turned out despite how you raised me."

"Carlisle—"

"But some things did take." Carlisle took a steadying breath. "God help me, Dad, I never imagined you were alone. I do what I do to help people—total strangers. I try to live with compassion for every man. You taught me that." He hadn't stood by his own words when it came to his son, but that wasn't the point at the current moment.

"Let me take you home. Somewhere you can be near me. I promise, you'll never have to face any of this alone."

William had turned his head to look at Carlisle, his expression unreadable. He swallowed hard. "Can I meet my grandchildren?"

Carlisle bristled, but he stayed calm. "Well. There's a caveat. You can come home with me, and meet my children, but there are conditions."

The old man tilted his head up, obviously bristling. "You mean rules. I'm no child."

"There are things I won't hear in my house, around my kids." Carlisle spoke calmly but clearly, not backing down. "First, whatever you think about two men being together, let alone raising children, they don't need to know."

In a heartbeat, the voice from the pulpit was back. William sat up straighter. "You're afraid if they're shown a different reality, they'll reject your choice."

"It's not exactly hard to find examples of heterosexuality. They've been adequately exposed. We teach acceptance in my house. Whomever my children turn out to be, they know their fathers will accept them and love them. You won't contradict that."

"They should know the righteous path—"

"Which brings me to my next point." Carlisle took a deep breath. This was actually harder to say. Irritating as it was, the little boy in him was terrified to admit this next part. "We don't adhere to any faith. We don't teach any one truth, because we don't believe any religion has the answer. You are, of course, free to practice your faith, but you will never present it to my children as the only way."

William stared at his son, fresh horror on his faith. "You've turned your back on your savior, Carlisle? He who would forgive all your sins?"

"I haven't turned my back on anyone's savior, though I can't say the same of most of them for me. My children will be able to choose what they believe for themselves. It's not something I'm going to force on them."

"Carlisle—"

"It's not that hard, Dad. We teach kindness and compassion. It's not so different than some of your sermons. All you have to do is apply it to everyone. Even if it's me and my husband."

"You're twisting my words, and the Almighty's for that matter."

"I'm asking you to watch your mouth. Don't let my kids know what you think of their fathers or people like us. If you can do that, you get your family back. Your son. My husband—who is a brilliant doctor and will catch things I might miss." He tilted his head to the side, ignoring the tightness in his throat. He reached out, picking up a sheet of paper he'd brought with him. Wordlessly, he set it in his father's hand.

"These are them," Carlisle said when the silence had stretched on for a full minute as William looked over the photos printed on the paper. "These are your grandkids. So, you tell me. I know what it will cost you not to lead, but they aren't your flock. They're mine. That's the bottom line. It's up to you if you want to take it."

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 **A/N: So. There.**

 **Thanks for being patient with updates, loves.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I want to thank all of you who voted for me in the fandom awards. I won first and second place for LGBTQ fic (Sweaters in July and Trouble), and...first place in What If fic, which is pretty damn cool. So, thank you. I love you guys.**

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"You doing okay over there?" Bella asked, breaking into Edward's thoughts.

He turned his head and smiled at his best friend. "I'm okay." He took a deep breath and let it out. "It's just the calm before the storm. I never did have the patience for it."

"You think it's going to be a disaster?"

Edward didn't answer right away. "I don't think every storm is destructive." He shook his head. "I don't know. I think it could be healing for Carlisle. I always worried about how his father would die. If we found out he died alone, or one of those sad stories where the deceased wasn't found until weeks after they died, Carlisle wouldn't forgive himself. He's so incredibly bad at forgiving himself. And beyond that, if his father expresses even a little respect for the man Carlisle has become, that would go a long way toward healing old, old wounds."

"Or he could dig them deeper?" Bella guessed.

Edward grimaced. "It's a real possibility. It's funny. His words aren't cruel, and that almost makes them more dangerous. You can dismiss the words of a lunatic."

Bella reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "You two have faced down a lot worse than a sickly, bigoted old man and come out the other side in one piece." She put her hands back on the steering wheel but flashed him a wicked grin before she returned her eyes to the road. "Plus you know as well as I do what the cure to most frustrations is."

"What's that?"

"Deep throat." She nodded with mock-gravity. "Balls deep."

Edward smacked his palm against his forehead, shaking his head as he laughed. "I walked right into that one."

"Seriously, Edward. You two are so good at taking care of each other. I'm a happily single woman, and I wouldn't have that any other way, but sometimes, I think if I could find a relationship like you've found with Carlisle, I might just change my mind."

"We are pretty disgusting." His smile fell, and he sighed. "You know I love my children, and it's the right thing—coming home ahead to prepare them. But I hated leaving Carlisle again."

"He'll be home tomorrow," Bella reminded him as they pulled up in front of Garrett's house. "Now, go on. Go rescue your friends from your heathens."

"Thanks for the ride," Edward said, leaning in to give her cheek a quick kiss.

He wheeled his luggage only as far as the driveway before abandoning it in favor of getting to the door sooner. What a strange, wonderful thing parenthood was. He wanted to be by his husband's side, but he also couldn't wait to have his children back in his arms again. Lucas's tearful face had haunted him, and he wanted to reassure them that their stay with Garrett and Kate was temporary.

The door came open before Edward could knock and Garrett stood there looking somewhat haggard. "Thank God," he muttered.

Edward smirked. "I think you meant to say my children are joys and treasures and you don't know why you don't have a dozen of your own."

Garrett's eyes went comically wide. "I made an appointment to get the snip ASAP after all." He grinned then. "I love your kids, Edward, but I like playing with them and sending them home with you."

Edward nodded gravely. "Well, I suppose I'll take them back if I must. Are they with Jake?"

"Yeah." Garrett turned his head so he could call over his shoulder. "Hey, kiddos. Your dad is home."

And there it was, the pitter-patter of little feet. It would never fail to make him smile. His tiny children sounded like a herd of horses. "Ah! Real monsters!" Edward cried, dropping to one knee and opening his arms.

Garrett jumped out of the way as three tiny streaks barrelled past and into Edward's arms. He wrapped his children tightly against them, kissing foreheads as they clamored like a pack of excited puppies, each of them babbling and jumping and trying to tell him everything at once.

Their voices overlapped.

"You're back, you're back, you're back."

"Hooray. Where's Daddy? Did you bring him home? Do we have presents?"

"Daddy, you know what Izzy did? She—"

"Don't tell, Luca!"

"Shh. Luca!"

They started squabbling, Ethan and Izzy ganging up on Lucas. Edward rolled his eyes. His terrors. "Okay. Okay," he said, speaking over all of them. "That's enough. Settle down."

It took almost half an hour to get the kids settled down enough to collect all their things and say a proper goodbye to Garrett. The man may have found full-time parenthood exhausting, but he liked collecting their cuddles and kisses.

With Jake's help, Edward got all three car seats back in his car and a kid deposited in each one. Edward patiently answered most of the questions they shot at him on the relatively short drive home. He got everyone out of the car at home and then all of them, Daddy included, crashed in the master bedroom for an impromptu nap.

Finally, when everyone was awake, their grumpiness chased away by a snack, Edward got to the hard part. They were gathered around the table, the kids all in their booster seats as they ate the orange and apple slices Edward had set out for them.

He clapped his hands to get their attention, took a deep breath and started in. "Do you guys know how we talked about different kinds of families?"

"Like we gots two daddies and some kids have two mommies and no daddies at all?" Izzy asked.

"And some kids have just one mommy or daddy," Ethan said.

"And other kids don't live with a Mommy or a Daddy." Lucas furrowed his brow. "Like if we had to stay with Gary and Katie forever."

"But we don't. We're at home," Izzy said, giving her brother an exasperated look.

"Hey, it's okay." Edward reached out and gave Lucas's hair a quick caress. "It's okay, bud. Your Daddy and I are going to be around. We got your back, kiddo. This isn't about us." Another even breath. "What I'm trying to say is that your Daddy has a father too. Which means you guys have a grandfather."

The kids exchanged looks.

"Daddy didn't go to live with him, did he?" Izzy said, for once sounding as horrified as her brother usually did.

"No. No." Edward rubbed his head, trying not to laugh at their honest concern. "No, of course not. Your Daddy is all grown up. He doesn't need to live with his father, especially when he has us to come home to. But he wants his father to come live close to us.

"See, remember how we told you Daddy went to California to visit a special patient? The patient was his father. Your grandfather is very sick."

"Did Daddy make him all better?" Ethan asked.

"Well, not quite. Your grandfather is sick." It was strange to introduce his children to someone he knew for a fact they would lose fairly quickly, but such was life. He and Carlisle had never been ones to pretend their children lived in some magic fairy world where nothing would ever hurt them. They simply promised to be there when it happened to explain and comfort. "He's not going to get all the way better. You'll have to be gentle with him, but he'll be able to talk to you and sit with you."

They had a lot of questions about how sick he was and why. They seemed to understand he couldn't be fixed, though they didn't make the leap to wondering how that would end. They spent some time wondering if they could do things to make him feel better like buy a cool toy or some flowers, because when they visited their daddies' work, they always saw patients with flowers.

Edward had to smile. How much he adored his kind, gentle children.

"Now, living with new people can be hard sometimes," Edward said when their questions had dwindled. "I'm sure your grandfather is going to love you." And if he said otherwise for some asinine reason, Edward had a few choice words planned for the old man. "But he's lived alone a long, long time. He's used to doing things a certain way. And you guys are used to having things a certain way too. So if your grandfather says things or does things you have questions about, you know you can always ask me or Daddy about them."

Carlisle called a few minutes after that, and Edward put the video chat in the middle of the table, glad to let him field a few questions. He was amused to find that the kids had questions about what their daddy was like as a little boy. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when the kids discovered Carlisle's father was even older than either of their daddies. It was as though they couldn't conceive of such a thing.

After Carlisle had hung up with them, Edward let the triplets 'help' him start to prepare their small rec room downstairs as a bedroom. Mostly, the kids brought every toy they thought their grandfather might 'need' or would make him feel better. They also brought every pillow in the house, which probably would be a great deal more useful.

As he was getting them bathed, Lucas eyed Edward as he massaged shampoo into his hair. "Daddy?"

"What's up, little man?"

"Do you have a daddy?"

Edward paused. He had no idea why the question shocked him. It was so obvious, it shouldn't have. All three kids had quieted and were looking at him, waiting for an answer. Edward swallowed hard and rinsed the shampoo from Lucas's hair as he turned the potential questions over in his mind.

As he typically did, be opted for the truth. "I do have a father." He paused a beat. "And a mother too."

The three of them gasped. It might have been comical if Edward's heart wasn't pounding a mile a minute. The kids were forever curious about mommies, which was only natural. Being not-yet-three, they really only knew one mommy in their social circle—Esme. They weren't quite sure what mommies did.

So, of course, they had questions.

"Where are your mommy and daddy?" Ethan asked.

"Are they sick like Daddy's daddy?"

"No." Edward furrowed his brow. "I don't think so. I haven't talked to them in a long, long time."

They didn't understand, and he didn't blame them. There were no words to make three year olds understand what it took to make a son walk away from his parents. He pulled Lucas from the bath, wrapping him in a towel. "Don't worry, sweethearts." He took Ethan from the bath next, wrapping him up tightly, and then Izzy. He gathered his wet children into a tight hug. "Grown up things get complicated. But remember what I said. Daddy and I, we got your back. We love you, and there's not a thing in the world that can change that." It didn't matter what they grew up to be. They would have fathers who loved them unconditionally.

Though, Edward had thought about it a lot since Carlisle had found his father again. Love wasn't the problem. William loved his son, and, if Edward was being honest with himself, he knew his parents loved him. They didn't understand him. They didn't trust him. They didn't accept this version of a son they never planned.

Edward cuddled and kissed his children, just taking in their beautiful, innocent faces. He made a silent promise to them. He would try not to write their script for them in their head. They would be who they would be. It was his job to teach them to be good human beings and to love them even if there came a day he didn't understand them.

 _ **~0~**_

Carlisle was quiet for a long time after Edward told him about what the kids had asked. They were on the phone, Edward curled up on Carlisle's big desk chair in his office because their children had, once again, taken over his bed.

Edward closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sound of his husband's breath, imagining he could feel its warmth against the back of his neck. He wasn't typically so needy when Carlisle was away. He was independent and had no problem being without his husband. It was just that he couldn't shake that this situation felt like a time of crisis.

"Baby, do you want your parents back in your life?" Carlisle asked, his voice soft.

Edward sighed. "Carlisle—"

"Listen first. I know this thing I'm asking you to do isn't easy. To let my father back in our lives… I can make him promise anything I want, but there's no guarantee he won't go back on his word. He may decide the kids' immortal souls are worth the risk of pissing me off." Carlisle's tone turned sour with those words, and he took a deep breath. "I don't think he can hurt them, but he can confuse them. That's a lot to ask of any parent."

"They'll be far from the first kids who have to hear that lecture. Listen, Grandpa is an old man from a different time, etc, etc. Everyone's grandparents are just a little bit crazy, right?" He ruffled his hair, staring up the ceiling. "I know it's different. A lot of people's grandparents are just a little bit bigoted, but not toward them. Not toward their fathers. We've been lucky in a lot of ways. Our friends are diverse. Different sexualities. Different family set ups. Different ways of life. It's great that the kids will grow up seeing that kind of diversity first hand, seeing how wonderful people can be despite being different from what they expect. They'll grow up knowing you can't shove seven billion people in one box, and the rantings of an old man, whether they're related to him or not, will be easily drowned out.

"Anyway. The world never has been about easy, clean choices." Edward laughed. "Look at you and me. It was the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with you, but we can't say it was without complication."

Carlisle chuckled. "You looked like trouble from the first minute."

"Oh, Daddy." Edward let his voice drop down to a purr. "Don't pretend you don't like a troublemaker."

"Baby boy," Carlisle said, his voice gone husky. "Don't start."

Edward could hear people in the background and guessed Carlisle must be in the lobby, having left his father in the hotel room.

"You never did answer my question though," Carlisle said more gently.

Edward huffed. "I know I have to think about it. I know the kids will bring it up again." He drummed his fingertips on the desk. "I don't want to think about it right now, though. One wayward parent at a time, okay?"

"One is more than enough," Carlisle agreed. "I love you. I know it hasn't even been twenty-four hours, but I miss you."

"You'll be home tomorrow with all your heathens. Including me."

"I love you, Edward," Carlisle said again. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

 **A/N: Family reunion next chappy!**

 **How are you guys?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Kris is sleepy. How are you?**

* * *

It occurred to Carlisle that it had been a long time since he didn't know his role in a relationship. He knew how to be a good husband, father, doctor, friend, and Dom. There had been a brief period when he didn't think he could fill his role as Edward's husband and Dom, but that had been his whole problem—he knew what he was supposed to be and couldn't, for a time, reach it.

How to be his father's son eluded him. Being his caretaker was easy enough. But casual conversation seemed beyond them.

It was a long flight.

Edward had dropped off his car at the airport the night before. It had been too complicated to try to figure out how to fit Edward, Carlisle, the triplets, and William into their car. Carlisle also hadn't wanted to introduce Esme to this dynamic yet. He had a close relationship with his best friend, and he didn't want his father's wheels to start turning. So, after a long, awkward flight, they were in for a long, awkward ride home.

As they got closer, William kept making a disgruntled noise and repositioning himself.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Carlisle asked finally. "Is there something you want to say or something you need?"

The old man grunted and shifted in his seat again. "It seems wrong."

Carlisle braced himself. "What seems wrong?"

"I shouldn't meet my grandchildren empty-handed."

Carlisle's lip twitched, and he chastised himself internally for assuming the worst. That was actually a very sweet thought. "You mean you want to bring them a gift? Or a treat, maybe?" He nodded. "We can do that. We can stop somewhere, if you'd like."

William cleared his throat. "I would appreciate that."

They ended up at Target, perusing the aisles at William's painfully slow walk. The stubborn old man had didn't like his walker. He'd use his cane, but not his walker.

It wouldn't be an option for long, so Carlisle held his tongue. His father was dying. A long death often took a person away piece by piece. He just had to make sure he was close, lest his father get too unsteady.

"So, what were you thinking?" Carlisle asked, keeping his hand near his father's elbow as they walked.

"Hmm." William frowned. "I'm sure you have them spoiled. Fancy contraptions. Expensive games and toys."

Carlisle actually had to struggle not to roll his eyes. "They're children. They play with mud. Whatever you get, they'll love it."

Somehow, William found a spinning top—an old-school wooden one. He also seemed to think it was a travesty that the kids didn't have a jack-in-the-box. Even though he thought they were a little old for the simple toy, Carlisle didn't argue. Doubtless they would have fun. Especially since it was Curious George. William seemed touched that the children knew about Curious George.

"You had the whole set when you were a boy," William said.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "I know. It's the same set." One of the few things he'd kept from his lonely childhood. "Well. It's been added to over the years. There are new books. A TV show. But the originals are there too."

William turned the jack-in-the-box over in his hands. "You had a stuffed toy. You carried it everywhere." He shook his head. "And you left it in a hotel room. The only thing you had responsibility for. I'd never seen you so bereft over a toy." He huffed. "You were a careless child."

In spite of himself, Carlisle ducked his head, a lump rising to his throat. His father had an uncanny ability to remind him he'd killed his mother in a few succinct words. The old man had already turned, heading to the registers. Carlisle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself before he followed.

He knew better, he reminded himself. He knew he'd been a scared child, and one who'd paid too high a price for one careless moment. It didn't matter what this man thought, father or not.

As he fell into silent step beside his father again, Carlisle tried to reorient his thinking. What mattered now was that his father wanted to be kind to his children. He'd worried about that—whether the man would still be distant and cold. His children didn't understand coldness. Even though many of the people in their social circle were childless by choice—or by circumstance like Emmett and Rosalie—they were always treated with adoration and warmth.

That was the most important thing. He had come to the conclusion long ago that he didn't need his father's forgiveness. And honestly, a part of him understood, to an extent. He couldn't fathom treating his children the way his father had treated him under any circumstance, but at the same time, he had no concept of what he would do if he lost Edward so suddenly and violently. Who would he become?

Putting that horrible thought out of his head, he got his father and his purchases in the car. He sent a text to Edward letting them know they were on their way again.

"This is some neighborhood." William looked out the window as they got closer, one eyebrow quirked as he looked at the houses.

Carlisle couldn't tell if that was a compliment. "We like it here."

His father actually whistled as they pulled up in front of the house. Carlisle had to work not to smirk. There was no denying he was a successful man. "It's big enough," William said.

"Five of us," Carlisle said with a shrug. He'd had this house when it was only him. His houses and his cars were the only things he liked lavish.

Well. He also didn't mind the odd fancy dress party. The kind where there was dancing, a pretentious meal, and his beautiful husband in a smart looking suit.

He got his father's things out of the trunk. He wheeled the large suitcase with one hand, offering his other arm to steady William. Surprisingly, his father took it. He had the sneaking suspicion William was nervous.

They got to the door, and Carlisle opened the door. "We're home," he called.

The response was immediate. There was the thunder of little feet. Ethan and Izzy came barreling down the hallway, yelling for him. Edward, carrying Lucas, wasn't far behind them. Carlisle bent down, scooping his children into his arms. He stood up, letting their feet dangle as he kissed their cheeks and nuzzled their noses with his.

"Daddy, Daddy, I'm _so_ glad you're home. _Finally_." Izzy hugged him and pressed a moist kiss to cheek.

"You can't go away again for a long ever," Ethan said sternly.

Carlisle chuckled and ruffled his son's hair as he set them both down again. "Not for a long ever. You got it, little man." He looked up then, wrapping an arm around Edward's waist and pulling him close. He cupped Luke's cheek, kissing his forehead. Luke lurched from Edward's arms, putting his arms around Carlisle's neck. Carlisle gave Edward a quick, chaste kiss before he pulled back, Luke held securely in one arm.

"Kids. This is your grandpa William," Carlisle said quietly, putting a hand on William's shoulder.

Ethan and Izzy walked right to him, staring up.

"Hello, Grandpa." Ethan squeezed his cane, looking curious.

"You're our Daddy's Daddy," Izzy said importantly.

William cleared his throat. "I am at that. What's your name, young lady?"

Izzy lit up. She loved being called a young lady as long as no one was chastising her. "My name's Isabel Daya Cullen."

"Daria," Edward translated with a smile.

"Thas what I said." Izzy gave her father a perplexed and vaguely irritated look.

"And I'm Ethan Jackson Cullen," Ethan said, bouncing on his feet.

William gave a hum of approval. He looked up at Lucas in Carlisle's arms. "And you, young man? What's your name?"

Lucas turned his head, burying his face in Carlisle's neck. Carlisle rubbed his back. "Can you say hello to your grandpa?"

Lucas made a vague grunting noise against his skin.

"He's just shy, Grandpa." Izzy said, taking William's hand and swinging it. "His name is Lucas Liam Cullen."

"I see," said William.

"Why don't you kids show your grandfather the living room? I'm sure he'd like to sit down," Edward said.

"I can help. I can help." Izzy hung on to her grandfather's hand with both of hers.

Carlisle followed long enough to make sure his father was all right with the kids. He set Lucas down on the furthest end of the couch, knowing he'd be fine with his siblings with him. "You kids be careful, okay? You can't climb on Grandpa like you do with Daddy and me."

"They're all right," William said, pushing Izzy's wild hair out of her eyes with a gentle smile.

"Okay. Edward and I will get the rest of your things."

Edward was waiting for him in the foyer, and reached for his hand even as they headed for the door. As soon as the door was safely closed, Carlisle pulled his boy to him again, wrapping him up in his arms. Edward tilted his head up, catching Carlisle's kiss.

It was a hungry kiss, voracious, and over too quickly. But it was enough. Like a breath of cold, pure air. Edward laughed against his ear. "I'm glad to see you too."

Carlisle laughed too, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Ah. What am I doing, Edward?"

Edward pulled back, stroking the backs of his knuckles down Carlisle's cheek, his green eyes lit with that look he had never quite gotten used to. Like Carlisle was the most beautiful and amazing thing he'd ever seen. "The right thing. Like always." He kissed him once more, brushing his fingers through his hair. "It's going to be okay. _We're_ going to be okay." He tilted his head so their foreheads were touching. "You're home now."

Carlisle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. Let's get this done."

 _ **~0~**_

It was a long evening, though not a bad one. As Carlisle predicted, the children loved the toys their grandfather had brought. Lucas was fascinated and perturbed by the top. Try though he might, he couldn't get the thing to spin with his clumsy, toddler-sized hands. He got over his shyness enough to thrust the thing at William with a plaintive, "please," and big, puppy dog eyes.

Izzy and Ethan, in the meantime, couldn't get enough of the Jack-in-the-Box. They spun it, chortling under their breaths in anticipation. They spun the crank slower and slower until the inevitable POP. Then, they would scream and collapse onto the floor in paroxysms of giggles.

William was as calm and patient with the kids as he had been with children in his church. He answered their endless questions, nodded as though their prattling was endlessly interesting, and didn't mind when they played with his cane. Carlisle breathed a little easier seeing it.

Still, though his father gave the children small smiles, Carlisle never could tell what he was thinking. He couldn't get rid of the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Some part of him still wanted to know he'd pleased his father. The way William looked around the house, at the study they'd converted for his use, Carlisle couldn't read his poker face. It was a face he remembered well from childhood—cool disinterest bordering on disapproval. It was putting him on edge.

His anxiety got all the worse when the kids threw a predictable tantrum at bedtime.

Carlisle came back down the stairs, rubbing his temples. That was when his father decided he had something to say. Apparently, he thought Carlisle and Edward had been too easy on the kids. "They'll walk all over you if you let them."

"They're not even three, Dad. You're new and exciting to them. They're over-stimulated, and they don't know how to express themselves well yet. They don't need to be punished. They need us to be calm and talk them through it. They're still learning."

His father harrumphed but, thankfully, left it at that.

Hours later, the house was quiet. Edward was asleep beside him, but Carlisle's eyes were still open. He groped for his phone, noting it was almost one in the morning. With a sigh, he gave up the pretense. Before he got out of bed, he looked over his shoulder. He ran a finger along Edward's cheek, smiling.

After a moment, Carlisle got up and made his way downstairs. Since his study was in use, he retreated to the living room with a tumbler of whiskey. He sat mostly in darkness, thinking and not thinking.

It might have been an hour before a rustle alerted him to another presence in the room. He looked up to find his husband walking softly across the room to him. Carlisle couldn't help but smile at the sight of him—bare-chested and sleepy, hair mussed.

Carlisle had never quite known what he was missing, never having a long-term relationship before this troublesome brat wandered into his life. His relationships were limited to the Dom-sub dynamic. There was nothing wrong with that. He played scenes with men he cared a great deal about. For hours at a time, he experienced a world of unlimited intensity and pleasures the likes of which he could never describe.

But with Edward, he'd found something he'd never known. A different kind of intimacy, no less intense. Sometimes, they were best like this—clothed and quiet. When they were so in tune, they didn't need words.

He reached out, taking Edward's hand as his husband sat on his lap, a warm, welcome weight. The world, so complicated and loud of late, dwindled down to the space between the arms of the recliner. Edward settled one arm around his shoulder, stroking his cheek with the other hand. Carlisle simply breathed, his eyes on Edward's, holding him and watching him. This beautiful man with his soft, adoring smile. Carlisle shuddered as a swell of emotion went through him. He closed his eyes as Edward ducked his head, running his nose along Carlisle's cheek, nuzzling the side of his hair. He pressed the softest of kisses there beside his ear.

After long minutes of basking, soaking in Edward's touch, letting his adoration and peace seep to the marrow of his bones, Carlisle responded. He ghosted his lips at Edward's jawline, not kissing, but using them to caress. He ran a hand up and down Edward's back, feeling his shoulders rise and fall.

He felt the heat of Edward's breath before they kissed—a sweet, slow meeting of lips and tongue. And Carlisle found again what had been missing for days. His balance. His sense of rightness in the world. He found his calm, peaceful center and heard the truths Edward spoke with his kiss, his touch, his solid weight in Carlisle's arms.

The man—boy—his father had told him he was didn't exist. That person was a figment of William's imagination. Edward knew who Carlisle really was. Saw his strengths and weaknesses, his beautiful and ugly parts, and loved him, whole and complete, without conditions or limits.

They may have stayed that way for hours, merely nuzzling, caressing, and occasionally kissing. Carlisle had no idea. He had no concrete knowledge of when their kisses got slower, their breaths more even. Consciousness ebbed and flowed. Edward's head lolled on Carlisle's shoulder, his breath wet against his neck.

Carlisle was only vaguely aware of a disturbance in the atmosphere, a break in the peace. His mind focused just as eyes caught movement beyond the little world of the recliner. There was someone in the doorway. Not a child. His children were small and noisy. No. This was a tall, silent figure.

His father and his narrowed, angry eyes.

Though Carlisle's body tensed automatically, he didn't move. This was an expression he knew how to read—pure disapproval. And rather than make him anxious, it only made him irritated. This was his house. He'd be damned if he would let his father make him feel ashamed of loving his husband.

So, instead of reacting, he tilted his head to rest on Edward's and closed his eyes again. If his father needed something, he could say.

He heard his father's shuffling step, and when he opened his eyes again minutes later, the living room was empty again.

* * *

 **A/N: Parental drama. Heh.**

 **How you guys, doin'?**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So. So. So. Sorry. Ahhh. I'm pregnant, and the baby ate my brain. It's been a struggle to write at all, but this one stopped talking to me altogether for a hot minute. Much love. Let's get to our boys.**

* * *

Being a parent was hard. Everyone knew that, and no one denied it. On the best day, it was exhausting, and on top of that, Edward and Carlisle were also surgeons. Toddler triplets, demanding jobs-it was daunting, but the happiness he got out of his life was worth all the work.

There was something to be said about how difficult it was to be a child, though.

Edward meant to roll out of bed when Carlisle did. It wasn't quite six yet, but their heathens were awake, chattering with each other. Carlisle got out of bed to get to them before they could go into full-fledged loud mode. They both liked their mornings as peaceful as they could get them, and lately, Carlisle wanted to make sure his father slept as long as possible.

Unfortunately, that morning, exhaustion got the better of him. The next thing Edward knew, he was startled into full wakefulness by blind panic. At least two of his children had climbed up onto the tall bed and were calling for him in increasingly frantic voices.

"Daddy. Daddy. Daddy."

"Wake. Up. Daddy."

Little hands grabbed at him, and Edward blinked hard. Ethan and Izzy both looked so distressed. He sat up, catching Ethan as he did. "What is it? What's wrong? Where's Daddy? Where's Luke?"

"Grampy is being so mean to Daddy." Izzy jutted her lower lip out, her beautiful eyes wide and watering.

Edward's panic faded instantly to irritation. He got out of bed, hitching Ethan up on his hip and picking Izzy up in the other arm. They chattered in tandem, both of them trying to fill him in on everything going on. Their words collided and ran together. He had no idea what the hell they were saying, but he got the gist. Even if he hadn't, the yelling he could hear almost as soon as he hit the hallway.

"Hell," he said under his breath, quickening his step.

He found Lucas on his knees outside of the office. He looked up, and Edward, who was already pissed as hell, saw a deeper hue of red. His baby boy was whimpering quietly, tears streaming down his face. He got to his feet and lifted his arms for up.

Edward obliged, quickly leaning down to scoop him up too so he held all three of them with their legs dangling. He carried them across the living room and set them down. He cupped Lucas's face and wiped away his tears. "Shhh." He caressed Izzy's hair and then Ethan's. "Shh, my loves."

"Daddy yelled at us," Lucas whispered brokenly.

Edward's eyebrows shot up.

"He told us to get out. Get out right now," Izzy said.

"We were helping," Ethan added. "We weren't being bad. I promise."

"Grampy is the one being mean and nasty." Izzy scowled, indignant.

"Okay. Okay. I know. You weren't bad. None of you are bad." He stroked their backs. Almost every molecule in his body wanted to run to Carlisle's side. William was still ranting, but that would keep another minute. His children needed to be soothed. "You know your grandfather is very sick. Sometimes, that hurts a lot. A lot, a lot. Like when you skin your knees, except all over your body. _And_ you have to put peroxide on all the cuts."

"All over?" Lucas asked in horror. All three children were staring, wide eyed.

But, they weren't crying.

Edward nodded. "Yes. And sometimes, being so sick and in so much pain means he can't do things he wants to do."

"Like when I want to ride a bike and you say I'm too little?" Ethan challenged.

Edward fought a smile. "Yes. That makes you very angry, right? Except it's not an adult telling him he can't do something. It's his own body. And that's very hard. It's very hard to understand when your body won't do something you want it to do." He held his hand out, and Ethan put his hand in his. "Like if you couldn't hold my hand because you couldn't make your fingers work."

The children all furrowed their brows. That might have been a little over their heads, but answering their thousands of questions would come later.

"Now, part of why you're upset is because Grandpa is yelling at Daddy and hurting his feelings, right?" Edward said, looking at them seriously. He waited until they all three nodded. "He's doing that because he's so sick and so angry, but not at Daddy. When he feels a little better, he'll be nice again." Or he'd have Edward to answer to, but that was a different story.

"And as for why your daddy yelled at you…" That was harder. Edward had never seen Carlisle yell at their children. He tried to remember him ever raising his voice at all and couldn't. "Daddy is Grandpa's baby. His son. It's very hard for Daddy to see his daddy in pain and so sick. And also, Grandpa is saying mean things. That doesn't feel good. That's a lot of hard feelings to deal with. You know hard feelings, right?"

The children all nodded again. When they got into tantrumy moods, Edward and Carlisle talked to them about hard feelings and the best way to express themselves.

"It's not an excuse," Edward said. "Daddy shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sure he's very sorry. I just want you to understand, he didn't yell because you were bad. He yelled because there are too many hard feelings in him right now. He made a mistake."

"Daddies make mistakes?" Izzy sounded awed.

Edward again had to fight a smile. He hugged them all close. "Yes. Daddies can make mistakes. Everyone can make mistakes. But let's talk about that later, okay? I need to help Daddy with your grandpa. Can you please play quietly and stay out of the way for just a few minutes?"

They were agreeable. Edward pressed a quick kiss to each forehead, and all but ran for the office-turned-bedroom. He saw instantly that he may have underestimated the urgency of the matter.

William was on the floor in an awkward position between the bed and a bookshelf. Carlisle was kneeling as close as he could, but every time he leaned in, trying to take William's hand or arm, his father would push him vehemently away.

"What are you going to do?" William snarled. "You going to carry me in your arms like a baby? Like your _husband?_ " He said the word with disgust dripping from his tone. "It's despicable, treating a full grown man as though he were a child."

"We're not talking about my husband right now, Dad," Carlisle snapped back.

"Let him talk about your husband. I can take it."

Both William's and Carlisle's heads snapped to the office door where Edward stood, his arms crossed. Edward took a steadying breath, putting on his best doctor expression. Of the two of them, Carlisle had the better bedside manner, but Edward was good with recalcitrant patients. More than one person had lamented that he would have been an amazing ER doctor. The folks that came into the ER were more likely to be panicked and therefore irrational. They often needed to be calmed down before any serious medical help could be rendered.

Edward fixed William with a stern look. "Why aren't you letting Carlisle help you?"

"I don't need his help."

"And how's that working out for you? You have a couple of choices here. You can lay on the ground, ranting and raving and scaring your grandchildren, or Carlisle and I will both get one of your arms, and you can help us get you up."

William's face twisted, but Edward talked quickly before he could. "Take a deep breath. I know it hurts. There's nothing weak about being in pain. Take a deep breath, and let us help you."

The man glared at him with hate in his eyes. Edward stared steadily right back. Sure enough, William folded first. His eyes filled with pain, and his tense posture slumped. He huffed, but then held a trembling hand out to Carlisle.

Edward moved quickly, getting on his other side, bracing rather than picking him up. It likely cost William more pain, but it let him have a shred of his dignity, save just a little face. Together, they stumbled the few steps to the bed, and guided William to a sitting position.

"Carlisle, you should check on the kids," Edward said, ignoring every instinct he had to go to his husband. He sunk to his knees instead and took William's foot. He cupped the back of his ankle and lifted his leg gently.

"I can-" Carlisle started, his voice tired.

Edward looked over his shoulder and smiled at his husband, putting all the love he had for this man in that one look. "Your kids need you," he said, keeping his voice light but with the edge of command.

Carlisle's features pinched. "It's okay," Edward said quickly. "Go talk to them. I can help here." He looked back at the old man. "Right, William?"

After a few seconds tense silence, William grunted his assent.

They sat in relative silence for the next few minutes save for Edward asking him the questions he needed to assess if he'd broken anything in his tumble. William was bruised, but his leg was the problem.

"Today might be one of those days that the pain pills just don't cut it," Edward said. "You know you have a few injections."

"Those have to be administered by a nurse."

Edward's lip twitched. "I'm a step or two above a nurse, William."

The man grunted again, looking away. "I'll be fine."

Edward waited a few beats, debating that answer. He'd noticed, these few days that William had been with them, that the man didn't let him administer any kind of medicine. It spoke to how worried he must have been about his fall that he'd let Edward examine him at all. Was it that a part of him was expecting his son's husband to do something to him?

"Listen. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't hear some of the horrible things you said to your son not ten minutes ago," Edward said, keeping his voice calm. "But you're not going to be persecuted here. I'm a doctor. Your health and wellbeing come before my personal feelings. Always. You will always receive the best care we know how to give. As a rule, I don't like seeing other human beings suffer, no matter who they are. You're our human being. That's all there is to it."

William, who had been looking away, gave his head a small shake. "I can see why you and Carlisle get along. You're both melodramatic," he muttered, but there was no heat behind the statement. "Can it be that I just don't feel like drugs are warranted?"

"Fair enough. I just want to reiterate that you're safe here. Now, tell me what you need or what you want. Do you want to take a nap?"

There was another long pause before William sighed. "The restroom."

"You're going to need help," Edward said gently.

"I know that," William snapped.

Without another word, Edward brought the wheelchair from where it was propped against the wall. William had glared daggers at it when Carlisle brought it home the day before. Edward pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and waited for the arguments. The man hated his walker, no doubt his loathing for the wheelchair knew no bounds. But, he was unsteady today and banged up. There was no getting around the necessity.

Thankfully coming to the same conclusion, William took the arm Edward offered and followed his instructions to slide out of bed and onto the wheelchair.

Some time later, William was refreshed and settled back in bed. The ordeal had wiped him out, and Edward hoped he would sleep for a while. He'd had an Ensure, so that would give them some time to get a decent breakfast cooked before he woke again.

Speaking of a decent breakfast, Edward wasn't at all surprised to hear the sounds of Carlisle in the kitchen when he emerged. He stopped first at the children, who were all at the table busily scribbling on large pieces of construction paper. "What are you all doing?"

"It's for Grampy." Izzy held up her paper. "We're making him cards to say get better."

Lucas and Ethan copied her movements, holding their cards up haphazardly for approval. Colorful streaks and swirls decorated the paper. Edward's heart swelled, and he mussed Izzy's hair. "Those are great. Keep working on them. You can give them to Grandpa after he wakes up from his nap."

Ethan put both his hands over his mouth, muffling his giggles. He couldn't get over the idea of a grown-up taking naps.

Edward retrieved a few of the markers that had fallen all over the floor. He put them back at the center of the table and finally, _finally,_ went to his husband.

Carlisle stood at the counter popping a cupcake wrapper into each hole in the cupcake baking sheet. A bowl of eggs, beaten to a froth, stood off the side and the cutting board was laden with ham and cheese chopped extra fine. Both of them were a testament to Carlisle's lingering frustration.

Stepping up behind him, Edward wrapped his arms around his waist and took his earlobe in his mouth, giving it a playful flick. Carlisle tensed a moment but then released a breath with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice just above a whisper.

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

"I yelled at the kids."

Edward snorted and let his nose tickle the side of Carlisle's neck. "Was there ever a point you thought we were going to get through eighteen years with three of them without yelling?" He made his tone more serious. "It's not going to be the last time, my love. Did you tell them you're sorry?"

"Yes. Of course."

"That's the important part. We own up to our mistakes, just like we expect them to." He took Carlisle's chin and turned his face toward him, smiling wickedly. "My daddy taught me that."

Some of the misery faded from Carlisle's eyes and he smirked. "My brat." He kissed him sweetly, and Edward felt more of the tension drain from his posture as he ran his hands down his back.

"Is Dad okay?" Carlisle asked as Edward set to sprinkling each cupcake wrapper with ham and cheese at the bottom.

"Sleeping," Edward said and filled him in about what had happened.

"I couldn't get him to cooperate to save my life," Carlisle said, sounding disgruntled. "I can't believe he listened to you. I'm glad, but…"

"I'm not his son. That's all it is."

Carlisle made a vague noise in the back of his throat, not quite convinced.

"Are _you_ okay?" Edward asked, spooning egg over the ham and cheese. "I didn't hear much of what he said, but he had the kids spooked."

"I think they were more startled by his snarling than his words. At least, they didn't have any questions about the specifics of what he said." He shook his head. "It wasn't anything I hadn't heard or didn't suspect."

Edward rubbed the small of his back. "The kids' birthday is in a couple of days. After that, we can get to the business of finding a good fit for him in an excellent care facility. It'll be easier to take care of him when he's not in our house, scaring the hell out of our kids."

Carlisle cupped his cheek, staring at him with adoration. "What would I do if I didn't have you to take care of me?"

"Well, I can't imagine a life without me in it either," Edward said, wagging his eyebrows.

Carlisle kissed him again, pulling him tight against him. "Brat," he said against his mouth.

* * *

 **A/N: Much love, my ducks. So much love.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Seriously. It's not as scary as it sounds. *wink***

* * *

One good thing about having both toddlers and a sick old man in their home was that they had similar bedtimes. By midnight, when no one was awake in pain or with a nightmare or wanting a glass of water, Carlisle was relatively certain he and Edward could enjoy a little alone time. He was ravenous for his husband.

He was starved for his sub.

He had his precious boy on his knees in a heartbeat, stripped and bared to him. He knelt behind him, stroking the tips of his fingers up and down Edward's spine, making him shiver and his breath catch. He took Edward's hands, clasped behind his back, and adjusted them so his wrists lined up, one against the other.

Standing, in Edward's view, Carlisle went to their locked chest and spun the code to unlock it. He took out two items, shivering himself at the low, filthy moan that came from his lover's lips when he saw what they were.

Edward met his eyes, watching him as he came back, holding his gaze with lust-dark eyes.

"Something to say, pet?" Carlisle asked as he sunk to his knees behind Edward again.

"No, Daddy." Edward's voice shook the slightest bit as Carlisle worked his wrists into the cuffs, securing them. "Just thinking. It's been a while, and you want to jump into the deep end of the pool."

"Hmm. Making up for lost time." He stroked his back. "But if you want me to stop...go vanilla…"

"No," Edward said quickly. "No. I like your flavor."

"Ohhh." Carlisle nuzzled at Edward's neck and dragged his teeth along the skin there. "That's one idea." He kissed a line to his ear. "But you're going to have to wait on that, little boy." He took hold of Edward's hair, yanking his head back just enough to make him gasp. "Bend forward. Get your ass in the air and spread your legs wide for me."

"Yes, Daddy."

Carlisle sat back on his haunches, watching and reveling in the sight. Edward's strong shoulders; the curve of his back as he bent forward, especially the small of his back—he did so love that spot. The double swell of his ass. Edward settled in the position he'd requested with an incredible amount of grace given that his arms were secured behind his back. He rested his cheek on the soft rug and spread his legs.

Bending over him, Carlisle rained a trail of kisses down his back. He reached between his legs, cupping his hot balls and tickling his shaft so Edward's body arched ever so slightly up. He kept his touch feather light, teasing.

Only after some minutes of these soft caresses, when Edward's breath was only ever so slightly ragged, did Carlisle reach for the second toy. He drew it along Edward's back, letting him feel the coolness of the metal against his skin. "Oh, god," Edward muttered.

The second toy Carlisle had taken out of the box was an anal hook. Shiny and smooth, it wasn't quite as scary as the name implied. The majority of it was a straight rod meant to fall along the line of Edward's spine. There was a circle at the long end which could be secured to any number of fun things. The hook, rather than pointed and sharp, had a good sized, metal ball.

"Last chance, baby boy." Carlisle ran the ball along Edward's crack. "There's nothing wrong with vanilla."

"I can take whatever you give me. I want whatever you give me."

Now it was Carlisle who groaned. He was lucky. He was so damn lucky.

He bent again and teased the edge of Edward's asshole with the tip of his tongue. Edward made such delicious sounds in the back of his throat—high pitched sounds that left Carlisle straining at his pants. He had to remind himself to keep focused; he had plans.

To that end, he pulled back, smirking when Edward whimpered. He put a healthy amount of lube on the ball of the hook and pressed it to Edward's ass. Edward groaned, pressing back, and Carlisle held his breath as he watched the ball disappear.

Carefully, he guided the length of the hook deep inside Edward's body until the long part was flush against him, traveling from his crack midway up his back. Then, he unhooked a link that hung from the binds and secured it ot the loop at the end.

With a hand at his elbow, Carlisle guided Edward upright. He rubbed his back, letting him get used to the way the movement of his arms drove the ball inside him. "Okay, little one?"

Edward's eyes were closed, his head tilted back. He blinked sporadically and nodded. "I'm good. I'm so good."

Carlisle stood and moved around him. He cupped a hand under Edward's chin, tilting his head up to look at him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "Look at you, all trussed up for me." He ran a thumb over his full lips, moist from where he'd licked them. "I don't know how to use you first."

Kneeling, Carlisle took Edward's face in his hands and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss at first, calming. Carlisle kissed his boy sweetly until his breath had evened out and his body relaxed. Then, he ran his tongue along Edward's bottom lip, asking rather than demanding entrance. Edward was, of course, more than happy to oblige. He opened his mouth and met Carlisle's tongue eagerly.

Carlisle ran his hands again through Edward's hair. This time, he took it in a rough grip, holding tightly as his lips and tongue worked him as though he was fucking his mouth. His free hand followed the line of the bar as it rested against Edward's skin, and he teased Edward's entrance with the tip of one finger.

It had the desired effect. Edward pressed up into his kiss and writhed against the sensation of Carlisle's finger at his pucker. He moaned into Carlisle's mouth as the movements tugged at the ball inside him. It was, Carlisle knew, an exquisite edge of pleasure and pain. Not comfortable, but all the more titillating because of it.

When Edward was well and thoroughly worked up again, Carlisle stood. Edward leaned forward, his lips still parted and moist. His expression was momentarily bereft until his movement jarred the hook and he shuddered. Carlisle took his chin roughly in one hand, tilting his head up again and releasing his straining cock from its confines.

Edward didn't have to be told what to do. He took Carlisle's cock in his mouth eagerly. Carlisle's eyes rolled back as he was enveloped in wet heat. He kept a hand on the back of Edward's head, guiding the pace. He pressed Edward's head closer, feeling the head of his cock push against the back of his throat.

As he anticipated, Edward naturally rose just a bit to meet each thrust. He had a habit of getting too eager and wriggly when he didn't have the use of his hands, as though he were trying to make up for it by involving his body. It worked for Carlisle. He did none of the work of driving Edward out of his mind and got a vigorous blow job anyway.

Edward hollowed out his cheeks, creating a tight suction, and Carlisle was undone. His hips jerked, and he gripped Edward's hair tightly as he spasmed in blissful release. Even when he let go, wondering if his shaky legs were going to hold him, Edward licked along his cock with slow strokes, cleaning him up. Carlisle shuddered and moaned at the sensation of wet tongue on sensitive skin.

What a beautiful sight his boy made, kneeling there. His eyes were lust-dark, his skin flushed pink and red, his lips parted, plump, and gleaming. Carlisle cupped his cheek, caressing him briefly before he sunk to his knees. He kissed Edward with a sweet, soft peck and then moved around him, pulling him back so they were flush again.

Edward groaned long and almost too-loud as Carlisle reached around him, trailing his fingertips in nonsensical patterns everywhere except where he was wanted most. "Daddy," Edward panted. "Daddy please."

And Carlisle couldn't make him wait another moment. He took Edward's cock in his hand and stroked even as he pressed love-bites along his shoulder. Edward threw his head back, arching, letting out a chorus of increasingly frantic, guttural, "Ahh, ahh, ahhh!"

Carlisle clapped a hand over his mouth, feeling the vibration of Edward's screams as his whole body jerked. It was an incredible sight, and when it was over, Edward sagged back against him, spent and breathless.

For minutes, Carlisle merely held his boy, kissing him gently at the temple. When he was sure he could, he guided him back onto his knees, smiling at the look on his husband's face—sleepy, far-away bliss. He busied himself undoing Edward's binds and easing the hook out of his ass. He stroked him and wiped him down.

Done with that duty, he gathered his pliant boy in his arms, bringing his back against his chest. Carlisle rocked him and rode the high with him. He murmured sweet things against his ear and kissed his hair. He ran his hands in gentle circles around Edward's chest, telling him how good he was, how perfect.

"I wonder if you know, little one, just how much you own me," Carlisle murmured.

"I'm yours," Edward whispered—the first words he'd had the energy to utter in nearly half an hour.

"I know, and I'm so lucky." Carlisle pressed his palm over Edward's heart, feeling its erratic rhythm slow. "Okay, baby?"

Edward hummed, sounding dreamy. He tilted his head, and Carlisle took that as invitation to kiss and nip at his neck. Edward sighed—a sound of perfect contentment.

Another few minutes of petting and soft whispers went by before Edward could move. When he did, he turned his head and nuzzled Carlisle's cheek. "What time is it?"

"Almost two." A different kind of pleasure permeated the warm bubble they'd retreated into. Carlisle ducked his head and hid a grin against Edward's shoulder, knowing exactly why he'd asked.

"Guess what."

"What?"

Edward touched his cheek with a reverent caress. "We have officially kept three tiny humans alive for three years."

"Three years." Carlisle shook his head and grinned, resting his cheek against Edward's. He thought of all the things that were and what could have been. He thought of the two sweet children they'd lost before their terrors had come along, and all the things they'd been through together.

Carlisle got to his feet, bringing Edward with him. They walked, arm in arm, to their bed, letting go of each other only long enough for Edward to slip into his sleep pants lest their rambunctious children catch them unawares in the morning. They lay together and kissed until they fell asleep, hands twined between them.

 _ **~0~**_

"This is certainly an...interesting assortment of friends you have."

Carlisle paused a moment, reminding himself to be patient before he turned to glance at his father. There was a look on William's face he was only too familiar with—a slight cock to his eyebrow and his lips turned down in disapproval. "What's wrong with my friends?" he asked, pleased when his tone came out almost conversational.

"They're a strange choice for a children's birthday party."

Carlisle relaxed slightly at that. "I'm sure there will be plenty of birthdays with all kinds of children running around after they're in school. Right now the kids are fine with a family-only birthday party. That's who these people are to them—family."

William made a vaguely disgruntled noise. "As though they don't have blood family."

Carlisle's jaw went taut, but he swallowed hard before he answered. "You're here now."

"And Edward's parents?"

Even now, so many years later, Carlisle's insides clenched. He had to remind himself that his children were right in front of him, and no one could take them away the way Edward's parents had once destroyed the first family they'd tried to make. "Do we really have to have this conversation here?" he asked, voice tight as he watched his children run between all the people who loved them.

William grunted but stayed silent. For almost a whole minute. "I can see, though, how easy it is to abandon your faith with friends like these."

Carlisle gave an exasperated sigh. "What does that mean, Dad?"

"They're fun, and they reinforce your beliefs. The righteous road is often rough. Demanding. Worthwhile in the end of days, but harder."

Carlisle crossed his arms to hide his clenched fists. "I am who I am. The church never had a kind thing to say about anyone who didn't fit a specific mold. Your old parish would have me believe I'm going to hell simply because my spouse, whom I am endlessly devoted to and who has been good to you, Dad, has the same genitalia as I do. And these people"—he swept a hand over the small crowd in his backyard—"will be joining mge in burning flames because they accept and love me. That's the thing the church never got right. Not understanding people isn't an excuse to condemn them. No one here is _wrong_ because they're different from you anymore than following the model set out by a book that was written before we even knew the Earth was round makes anyone right."

"I've already told you. There were a lot of things I disagreed with. My parish got many things wrong. A true Christian—"

"Can we please not go there today?" Carlisle ran a hand over his eyes. "I can't tell you how sick I am of hearing 'they're not real Christians.' Yes, they are. They're a part of your belief system, and that's something you get to deal with; I don't have to. There's something in that book that gave them a reason to hate me and gave you a reason to find me lacking even now. That you can look at all I have—my family, my friends, my community, my work—and still tell me I'm missing the point…" He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "My friends didn't enable me. I read the damn book. I heard every one of your sermons. I disagree. If God wants to punish me on judgment day for living a good life, well… Just don't try and call him benevolent. Not in front of me, because I'm not buying it."

Carlisle walked away from him then and waded back into the crowd. He smiled when Esme approached him. She'd obviously seen him with his father and so put a comforting hand to his back and kissed his cheek. Carlisle let her touch soothe him. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and when he opened them, he reassessed.

Every single person in his yard was beautiful in their own way—kind, good people despite their proclivities and with whom they chose to share their beds. His children were over-the-moon. They were healthy and happy, well protected and well loved.

Across the lawn, he met Edward's eyes and shivered at the smile his husband gave him.

If his father, and his father's faith were right, hell would be such a small price to pay for everything he had.

* * *

 **A/N: SO! How is everyone? :) If I sent anyone down the rabbit hole looking up anal hooks… Well, I hope you had fun with that. Hehehehe.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: The boys took a bit of a hiatus while I was pregnant, but I think they're back! Short update, but that tends to happen when I need to get back on track. Onward!**

* * *

Edward got out of his car and stretched. It had been a long day at the hospital. He raised an eyebrow, hearing the commotion his three tiny children could make even from where he was. He put his bag down and went out the side door, headed for the backyard.

There, he indeed found his children, tumbling around the yard. Perched on the stairs, watching them, was not only their nanny, Jacob, but a man in magenta scrubs. It didn't take many guesses to figure it was the home care nurse Carlisle had hired to be with William when they were both at work. Eric, if Edward remembered correctly.

"Daddy!" The children spotted him and redirected, barreling into him at full speed. Edward intercepted Ethan, lifting him high into the air. Lucas and Izzi clung to his waist, jumping up and down as they greeted him and babbled about their day.

Eric got up, looking a touch guilty to be caught outside and not with his charge. "Good evening, Mr. Cullen. William is napping just now."

Edward smiled as he shook the man's hand. "How was he today?"

It was Jacob who answered, his tone sour. "He's…" He eyed the children. "Cantankerous."

"He has some opinions about men in our jobs," Eric said cheerfully.

Edward rolled his eyes skyward. "Oh, fabulous." He sighed, setting Ethan down amongst his siblings. "I'm sorry. I hope it goes without saying that you're well respected by the rest of this family. We don't think professions have a gender."

"No offense taken." Eric waved a dismissive hand.

"Nothing I haven't heard from my own father," Jacob said. He picked up Izzy and kissed her cheek, making the little girl grin. "I haven't let it stop me yet. I like this job. I like your crazy kids."

"Yeah." Edward mussed Lucas's hair. "Yeah, I'm kind of fond of them too." He looked to Eric. "What about you? You don't have the pleasure of dealing with my children."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "They were my helpers today, weren't you, kids?"

"We helped Grandpa," Izzi said.

"We did," Ethan enthused. "I got his owange juice, and I didn't spill it. Not one bit."

"We counted medicine," Lucas said.

"They helped count his pills. They didn't touch them, " Eric clarified.

"Pills are off limits," Izzi said importantly.

"That's right," Edward said. Izzi beamed. She loved being right.

"Grandpa said we should be doctors like our daddies and not nurses," Ethan said.

Edward had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He squatted down to his children's level. "Nurses work very hard, and they help a lot of people. Daddy and I are going to be proud of you no matter what you do. You can be doctors, nurses, dancers, or deep sea explorers. You can be whatever you want to."

"I want to be a bathtub," Lucas said seriously.

Edward grinned. He lifted his son up and gave a big kiss. "I'm all for that plan. I'm a fan of baths."

 _ **~0~**_

"It's not a big deal," Edward insisted for what had to be the seventh time.

His husband huffed as he sat heavily on the edge of their bed, unbuttoning his shirt with unnecessary aggression as he fixed Edward with a rare, withering stare. "He has no business—"

"Carlisle." Edward shook his head, putting aside the laundry he'd been folding. "It's fine."

"It's really not. He can't say these things. Jake and Eric—"

"Jake and Eric are adults and professionals."

"And what about our young, impressionable children?" Carlisle gestured vaguely at the door. "You think they should hear that their gender limits what they should do and be?"

"Our children are young and impressionable. We also have a lot more influence over them than your father ever will, Carlisle." Edward sat at his side and put a hand on his knee. "You're really worked up about this."

"It's a ridiculous way of looking at things, as though the nurses who take care of us and the people we trust with our children are less valuable somehow. Or what? Less strong? Noble?"

"It's a dumbass way of thinking. I'm not going to argue with you there. But weren't you the one who taught me to pick my battles?" He squeezed his husband's hand. "This isn't one that needs to be fought. The kids know they can be anything, do anything, and we'll support them."

Carlisle took in a deep breath like he was going to argue, but then exhaled in a gust, his shoulders slumping. He ran his hands over his face. "Yeah. You're right." He sighed. "I hate feeling like this."

Edward rubbed his back. He hated seeing Carlisle like this—skirting the very edge of his control. "He's under your skin."

"Yeah." Carlisle shook his head. "I can't seem to do anything right, can I? Hire a male nanny. A male nurse."

"Does it matter so much that he cares?"

Carlisle tilted his head up to the ceiling. He breathed in and out, long moments passing before he spoke again. "I'm afraid he's going to tell them I killed my mother."

"Then we do what we do whenever he says something stupid. We explain it was an accident. Bad things happen." He cupped Carlisle's face. "Even to good little boys."

Another few moments went by before Carlisle tilted his head back down and looked to Edward. "You know what I hate? Never once, when we were making those kids, did I question if we were doing the right thing. I never questioned if two men could be the parents our children deserved. And I still don't. We're good fathers.

"But that's the way I see the world. There's nothing that guarantees the kids will see the world the way we do. They don't know much about mothers, but they will. When they're in school and most of their classmates have mothers, they'll know. Their reality is more complicated. Biologically, they have two mothers—the one whose DNA they share and the one who birthed them." He shook his head. "I killed my mother. Their grandmother. And robbed them of the possibility of having a mother."

"Carlisle—"

"I know." He leaned his head against Edward's, putting an arm around him. "He's my father. I have to believe he once felt about me the way I feel about the kids, but I can't make him see anything but the reality he clings to. Whatever it is that makes people think the way he does, who's to say the kids won't turn out like that?"

Edward's gut twisted. There was a frightening thought. "It's just...not going to happen. You broke the cycle."

"Yeah." Carlisle leaned in, kissing the side of his mouth. "I know. I'm just being...something."

Edward lay back, pulling Carlisle down on top of him, intent on helping him forget his worries for awhile.

 _ **~0~**_

"What's going on here, then?"

Edward looked up from the table where he'd been watching his three children make an incredible mess. William stood there, leaning heavily on his walker, his eyes, as always, judging.

Sure enough. "It looks like a hurricane hit the table," William said, sitting carefully at the furthest end.

"Excuse the mess, my children are making memories." Edward batted his eyelashes innocently, quoting a patronizing sign he'd seen often. He was sure the old man had a thing or two to say about keeping kids neat and orderly, but he wasn't going to give him the chance. "Tell Grandpa what you're doing, guys."

"It's Daddy's birthday soon!" Ethan said, overexcited.

"We're making him tings." Izzi held up her purple sheet of construction paper which was a mess of glue and glitter.

Lucas and Ethan copied their sister, holding up construction papers with three-year-old doodles and bits of brightly colored paper glued haphazardly on it. Edward was charmed. William at least looked bemused.

"That's, er… Well, I'm sure your father will like it," William said. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"What're you getting Daddy for his birthday, Grampy?" Lucas asked, bending his head back to his drawing.

"Oh." William cleared his throat, his brows furrowing when Ethan and Izzi stopped working to look at him. "Well. I think it's fine that you want to give your father a little something, but I think birthdays are for children, not grown-ups."

Now, Lucas raised his head. "Bella had a birthday."

"And Jakey," Izzi said.

"Can we really consider Jake a grown-up?" Edward muttered.

Ethan gave him a look that suggested he was deranged. "Daddy, Jakey is all grown up like you. That's why he can take care of us."

"Oh. My mistake." Edward reached over and mussed his son's hair.

"So you have to give Daddy a gift. It's his birthday," Lucas insisted.

"Grandpa doesn't have to do anything, bub," Edward corrected gently.

"No. It's all right." William frowned. "I don't have any earthly idea what to get a grown man."

The kids, of course, were full of suggestions. Most of them had Edward cackling behind his hand. Watching William stumble over responding seriously to the triplets' increasingly bizarre suggestions was priceless. He thought it was precious that they wanted to get him a tool chest because Bella had one for her tools and they'd heard Carlisle talk about his (bone) saw.

"I can order something from the internet for you," Edward offered when the kids were distracted again. "Or we can go shopping if you'd like."

William grunted, looking displeased as always. "Seems like such a waste. Buying some trinket. It's not as though Carlisle needs anything."

Edward started to straighten up the art supplies the kids weren't using. "You don't have to feel obligated." It took all of Edward's self control to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Carlisle loves giving gifts. He's over the top." Edward shook his head. "I caught him researching just how much our own private island would cost."

William balked. "Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary—"

"It was a lark. We're not that well off."

"The very thought…" William grunted. "The Bible would tell you 'every good gift and every gift comes from above.' But if that's truly not enough, a gift should be thoughtful. Personal. Not some extravagant means of showing off."

Edward struggled not to roll his eyes. "Then can I offer a suggestion?"

William waved a hand indicating he should continue.

"Carlisle never talked much about what it was like growing up with you."

The old man went stiff as a board, his face twisted. Edward hurried on before he could get defensive. "But he did tell me a fond memory he had. He said you would bake bread for the people who ran your office on occasion. Rye bread, which he hated. Because you knew he didn't like it, you would bake a special loaf just for him."

William looked off and nodded slowly. "Tomato basil. He like that it was red."

Edward smiled. "I think he'd like something like that very much."

"Hmm." William raised his trembling hands. "I'm not so sure I could knead bread."

"I could help you with that."

William grunted again but, after a few quiet moments, he nodded. "I would appreciate that."

 **~0~**

One of the many things Edward had discovered, when he fell in love with Carlisle, was that he wasn't as patient a man as he prided himself on being. He had a smooth, steady hand in his profession where he could stand for hours on end making the most minute, exacting cuts.

The first time Edward had prepared a surprise for Carlisle, though, all his patience went right out the window. He must have called the man five times to make sure he was coming home when he said he would.

Never was his impatience worse than when he had a really good gift for Carlisle and had to wait to give it to him for Christmas or their anniversary or his birthday. Edward knew Carlisle would like the gift he'd bought, but it wasn't what he was so excited about. He was itching to tell him about William's gift. His curiosity was off the charts, wondering how his husband would react. It could be a beautiful moment.

Of course, Edward bit his tongue. "Do you know what struck me today?" he said instead as they were winding down for the day. He was watching Carlisle brush his teeth at the sink, studying the muscles of his back and shoulders.

Carlisle rinsed his mouth and looked over at him. "What's that?"

"You know how they say women grow up to marry their fathers? Not that you're a woman, but given that he was really the only one you had...there might be something to that."

Carlisle narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? You're nothing like my father."

"Well, I'm not a judgmental old prune, but that's not actually his main problem."

"It isn't?"

Edward took his husband's hand and pulled it to rest on his waist. He danced the fingers of his free hand along the ridge of Carlisle's spine. "That's just his indoctrination—his religion, his parents, whatever. No, his main problem is that no one has ever told him it's okay to feel." He kissed Carlisle's chin. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"

Carlisle looked dubious, so Edward went on. "Think about it. You should have seen him today. The kids were...well. I mean, they have the kid logic going on. And you could see it on his face. He wanted to let go and enjoy them, but there was that part of him that wanted to correct all their ridiculousness." He chuckled at the memory.

"I don't think he knew how to grieve about your mother," Edward said, his tone easy. "He took it out on you. Classic displacement. Not unlike me searching out a hard spanking instead of crying over my lost patient."

Carlisle shuddered. "Don't talk about my father and your bratting in the same breath, little boy. Those are two things I don't want to associate with each other."

Edward grinned. "It's not my fault that I found other ways to deal with my bullshit rather than become a cranky bastard." He looked into his husband's eyes and his smile gentled. "But I was like him. Scoffing at cuddling because that's not what a grown man needs. I was lucky. I had you to show me it was okay to feel and to be soft. Maybe if your mother had lived, things would have been different for him." He shrugged. "But you married your father."

Carlisle pulled him tight against him. He took his face in between his hands. "You're nothing like my father," he repeated more fervently.

Then, he kissed him. Hard. And again. Soft. Gentle. Edward sighed, and let his husband wrap him up in loving arms.

* * *

 **A/N: Mew! Birthday party next chap. Should be fun.**


End file.
